Second Chances
by Straya
Summary: [Gen1, post TF:TM] Killed in a surprise attack, they were the casualties of the Great War. However, a final prayer to Primus by one dying Autobot may have given them all a second chance. [Complete!]
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. No sueing of the fangirl. She makes no money off this kind of thing._

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Author Note: Apologies in advance for the long opening note, but this fic might be a little "iffy" for some people, given what it's about and how I've planned it. I intend to mix a lot of the Transformer mythos, as provided not only by the movie and cartoon series, but also what's been given in the comics, both old and new. You'll find mentions of Primus, sparks and other non-gen1 terms, yet the story begins with an infmous scene from _Transformers: The Movie_. Admittedly, this fan fic is something of a fan's pipe dream in terms of preserving some of what was lost, starting with the movie and extending into seasons three and four. You'll find OCs here and there, as well as a little out of character behavior on the part of canon characters for a short time (as demanded by the plot). Honest, constructive feedback is appreciated if one has the time or inclination to provide it. Finally, I'd like to extend thanks to my two roommates for encouraging me to write this, as well as to PuraJazzBot, whose _Jazz Trilogy_ (the third part in particular, with follow-up) got me thinking about this idea in the first place. You may find a few homages to the Trilogy scattered here and there as the story progresses.

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_"For all the practicality we medics insist upon,  
we still believe in miracles."_

_-__Ratchet, from PuraJazzBot's "Behind the Visor" (part II of the Jazz Trilogy)_

**  
Second Chances**

_Prologue_

"What the?"

Brawn's exclamation voiced what was on all their minds as the shuttle began to tremble, the monitors flickering as Ironhide struggled to hold their course steady in the asteroid fields, mere minutes from from the wormhole that would take them into the orbit of Mars. A few short seconds later, the left side of the cockpit area exploded inwards, shrapnel flying as invaders forced their way inside, ripping through hanging wiring like frenzied animals.

Up in an instant, Brawn rushed forward. "MEGATRON!"

"DIE AUTOBOTS!"

The warcry from Megatron was hardly necessary to urge his warriors into action, the leader himself converting to his powerful firearm mode and landing in the hands of his air commander. Starscream drew a bead on Brawn before the tough Autobot could reach them, a single blast from Megatron tearing through his shoulder and sending him to the floor of the shuttle. As the fallen mech's back erupted in a shower of sparks, Prowl went for his own weapon and managed to squeeze off a single shot, but found his actions a moment too late as a blast from Scrapper dispatched him. Orange smoke pouring from his mouth as leaking internal fluids caused a malfunction in his circuits, the officer toppled over backwards and crashed heavily into the floor where he lay in a broken heap. As even more enemies began to pour in front outside, Ironhide and Ratchet faced them, guns blazing as fast as they could manage to pull the triggers. Starscream directed Megatron's fury upon the medic, laser fire destroying his chest and bursting out his back. As Ratchet fell with a choked gasp, Ironhide found himself victim of further fire by the other Decepticons, part of his lower torso blowing out before he fell. Utterly defeated, the four Autobots lay upon the floor as their enemies moved forward to assume command of the shuttle.

Megatron could hardly resist the chance to gloat. "This was almost too easy, Starscream."

"Much easier, almighty Megatron, than elmininating the real threat... The Autobot Moonbases!"

"You're a fool, Starscream. When we use this shuttle to slip past the early warning systems at Autobot City..."

From where he lay sprawled on his back, Ratchet's optics glowed dimly at the very throught of the Decepticons running loose in the main Eath bound Autobot base. His fingers twitched and his circuits raced with the need to get up and continue fighting, to do something to stop such bitter enemies from achieving their goal, but his life continued to slip away bit by bit as his support system failed.

"Noooo..."

Ironhide, he still functioned! The medic's relays pulsed with renewed hope, but despair seized him anew as Megatron's voice followed.

"...such heroic nonsense."

Pangs of agonizing sorrow ripped through Ratchet as he heard the fusion cannon fire, the blast striking not only the floor of the shuttle, but something far more pliable as well. He listened intently, forcing his malfunctioning receptors to tune in to all the various sounds around him, but Ironhide did not speak a second time. Bluish tears began to flow from the corners of Ratchet's optics as he realized there was nothing he could do to stop Megatron's madness, now. Slowly, the view of the metallic ceiling began to blur and fade as his sight left him, yet he couldn't help but offer one final plea before he departed the mortal coil.

_Primus, please don't let it end this way... Give me strength...this has to be stopped... Just another few moments of life... _

To Ratchet's surprise, an deep voice answered him in an ancient language, echoing somewhere beyond all the noise around him. Somehow, in the depths of his memory banks beyond his dying circuits, he recognized the words and grapsed their meaning.

_You require a miracle in death? What can you do?_

No longer able to see, the medic could feel his systems seizing up. S_omething...anything... The Decepticons, the slaughter...they've got to be stopped...even if just to detonate the shuttle's fuel reserves..._

For a brief moment, there was no answer. Then... _All that is meant to be will eventually come to pass, but fear not. There is a task that must be completed and it can be yours If you desire to live with such determination._

._..anything...anything to help the rest..._

_Then sleep for now. Sleep and know that you have been heard and answered..._

Ratchet uttered a small gasp as the last of his systems went offline, the life leaving his battered body.

The shuttle hurtled onwards through the wormhole, the Decepticon leader and his warriors at the helm.

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_Next chapter... A case of "lost and found."_


	2. Chapter 1: AWOL

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Just another (mostly) harmless fan fic, I swear! ;)__

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Author Note: My thanks to those of you who decided to take a chance and read this thing... And yeah, I do know that Primus is a pretty common figure in TF mythos, but I neglected to specify that he was never once mentioned in the gen1 cartoon and that's more or less what I meant when I mentioned mixing up the mythos. (S'what I get for uploading at 3am, I suppose!) I've never been a fan of the Quintesson creation story, so that's why I'm changing things up a bit. Anyway, on with the fic...and expect it to get a little bit weird before it really starts to pick up. (Also, apologies for the semi-cruddy formatting. QuickEdit is crap.)

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**  
Second Chances**

_Chapter 1: "A.W.O.L."  
_

Warmth. Sunlight. He could feel it against his face, yet he felt as though he were walking with his optics shuttered. It was a feeling of ongoing, half jolting motion, but try as he might, he couldn't stop. Slowly, he became conscious of his surroundings, the light invading his vision as the sights before him cleared, although only his right optic managed to come online.. In front of him was another mech, walking forward with some kind of weapon slung over one shoulder, its hide made up of slate gray armor. With some shock, the robot realized he also held a weapon and was marching, as well. His audio receptors told him that yet a third walked behind him. He was part of an entire line of gray armored soldiers, moving in single file line behind some type of vehicle far up ahead. Confused and feeling fear gripping his relays, the robot resisted the urge to break formation and make a run for it.

The line trooped slowly into the outskirts of a vast city resting in a desert-like wasteland, a force field lifting to admit them. Up ahead, other vehicles waited, manned by smaller flesh creatures with thin layers of fur covering most of their bodies. They had large ears that were tall, pointed and perched on their heads, and lengthy, prehensile tails, each split into two different extremities at the end. Walking upright, they barked orders to one another and the line of machines, various colors of uniform identifying their ranks.

"Inspect the line and remove the ones too damaged to go out again," one of the lead creatures ordered another as the group passed them.

"And the removed?"

"Either see they get repaired or have them scrapped for spare parts, themselves!" The leader paused and glanced over the line, his two cat-like eyes falling on the bewildered mech, the third eye set in his forehead lidded. "Start with that one. He looks like his logic circuits have been scrambled, barely seems to know where he is!"

That did it. The robot bolted from the line, still clutching his weapon over one shoulder as he made a mad dash for the outside world again. Shouts rang out behind him, cries of "Rogue!" and "Shoot him!" The other mecha whirled and immediately brought their own weapons to bare, laser fire cutting through the air towards the fleeing target. Despite his attempts to zig and zag back and forth amongst stopped vehicles and what appeared to be ground based turrets, one blast caught him in the right shoulder, the limb rendered useless and the rifle it had been holding dropping to the dusty ground. Wincing, the runaway abandoned his only apparent possession and put on another burst of speed. Sliding out of the way of the force field before it could be closed, he didn't bother to look back, but rather kept right on running.

How long and how far he fled, he wasn't sure. He only knew he needed to put as much distance between himself and the military force he'd somehow become a part of. A glitch in his chronometer kept him from tracking time and he had not bothered to mentally mark his starting point. Rather, he moved on at a quick jog until he felt he could go no further, collapsing to his knees near a towering rock structure, the crags sporting various, spiky plant life. Sitting back against a boulder in the shade, he took the chance to rest, his systems still attempting to stabilize and make sense of the situation. Slowly, he fell into temporary stasis, optic shuttering and head lolling forward.

* * *

Sometime after the twin suns overhead had set, the lost robot came back online again, feeling the cold night air starting press in on his steely, armored skin. As he forced himself to his feet, he grimaced in pain, the torn wiring in his loose and useless right arm sending jolts through his circuits. Unfortunately, it seemed he hadn't made any progress in his down time; little around him made more sense than before. However, walking around towards the other side of the high mound, he picked up the sound of shouting and laser fire. 

Parked a short distance from the rise of rocks sat a large vehicle of some kind, layered in armor and carrying equipment necessary for hauling heavy cargo. Next to it stood another of those furred aliens, screaming at something in the shadows and brandishing a smaller version of the weapon the mech had previously been carrying. The robot considered showing himself when something else approached the creature first - a lithe, silvery, scaley creature with four tiny, black beady eyes and large, leathery wings. Saliva oozing from the corners of its fanged jaws, it stalked towards the lone alien by the transport on its six muscular legs, its intentions more than obvious.

Common sense dictated that the robot turn and save his own life, especially since he was already injured, but something within refused to let him move anywhere but towards the dangerous situation ahead of him. One foot in front of the other, he started forward at a walk, then broke into a run, a cry echoing from him as he hurled himself at the hungry monster. A flash of memory in his data banks put a name to the thing - a Ch'danth - and he knew then he might not walk away from the battle. As the smaller, furred creature took the opportunity to vanish around the other side of the vehicle, the mecha tangled with his new foe, the pair locking limbs and rolling over in the dirt.

Almost as large at the mech, the silver alien tried several times to sink its teeth into its enemy's arms and shoulders, but with every attempt found its way barred by armor. Hissing and grunting, it wriggled about in the other's grip, managing to get a few claws into the bot's open wound. Agony ripped through the robot as the beast tore the limb free of the socket and tossed it aside. Momentarily paralyzed with pain, he was forced to release the Ch'danth, allowing it to gain the upper hand and pin him to the ground. Something of a feral grin passed over the triumphant Ch'danth's features as its skin began to take on an almost liquid appearance, sliding down its front limbs and over the armor of its captive.

"Back off, you scaly filth!"

A shot exploded from nearby, striking the Ch'danth in one eye and causing it to roll over and off its prey, writhing and bleeding black across the ground. However, the struggle lasted only a few brief moments before the damage inflicted began to heal at an incredible rate. As it started to regain its feet and wits, the mech forced himself up and rushed the recovering beast. Remaining hand closing over its flat, diamond shaped head, he forced the last of his strength into applying as much pressure as possible. The Ch'danth struggled and tried to retreat, but the other refused to be shaken, allowing himself to be dragged backwards, the sounds of scale and bone creaking in his audio receptors. Metallic teeth gritted and joints straining nearly to the breaking point, he mustered one last effort, the Ch'danth's skull shattering with a sickening crunch, dark fluid spilling to the ground. Utterly exhausted, the mech fell into a heap as the dying alien reared back before striking the ground in a frenzy of limbs, tail and wings.

A large burst of electricity from the furred alien effectively congealed the fluids and seared the metallic flesh on the Ch'danth a moment later, the repeated shocks eventually reducing the beast to little more than smoldering ashes.

From where the fallen robot lay on the ground, his vision cutting in and out in flashes, he could see just barely make out the diminutive alien approaching him on padded feet, the shock weapon still gripped in one clawed hand. It said something - a question - but the mech could no longer put meaning to the sounds. Rather, he closed his good optic and made one last plea for assistance before shutting down.

"...help me."

* * *

"...sure you don't want to sell that one for spare parts?" 

"I'm not letting go of that one, so stop trying to bargain. I told you I've fixed it already, anyway."

"Still looks like a big mess to me."

"No sale, I said. So go away."

The robot groaned softly from where he lay as the words reached him along with a dull ache in his right arm.

Hold on? Right arm? His head snapped around to the side to see that his limb had been repaired, re-armored and hooked back into the socket, again. Flexing his fingers experimentally, he felt a small smile cross his features. Everything seemed to be in basic working order.

"Out of stasis lock? About time."

The mech faced front again to see the same scrawny alien standing on his chest with his thumbs hooked over the loose tool belt about his waist. The rest of him was garbed in a sleeveless dark blue body suit, his forearms and legs wrapped in a form fitting light blue material. Tall ears perked slightly forward, he looked appraisingly down at his find through a pair of golden eyes framed by a reddish-brown furred face. Searching his memory banks, the bot managed to scrounge up the proper term for the alien species - the Tarthans.

"Just going to lay there, I guess?" the Tarthan asked after a moment when he received no response. "Maybe I should have checked your audio receptors and vocal devices more carefully."

"They're fine. I can hear you," the robot finally said in return, his one good optic ridge raised just a bit. "Who are you and where are we?"

In looking past the alien, the mech noticed they were no longer under the night sky, but rather indoors somewhere. The ceiling appeared rocky and cavernous, lamps strewn here and there. Nearby, he could hear the sounds of another creature tinkering with a bit of machinery, although his range of vision didn't allow him to see exactly what.

"Typical soldier mecha," the alien said with a grin. "My name is Jaraxis and we're inside a small outpost not too far from where you took that Ch'danth down. Been about a moon and half a suns, but I managed to get you mostly repaired. Some of that junk under your armor is beyond me, however."

The other nodded slightly. "Thank you, and I would tell you my name, but...I either can't remember it or I don't have one."

"Most of your kind don't get names unless you're a favorite, but you don't act like every other 'bot I've seen since we started using them in the war."

"Don't I?"

"No. When a soldier goes down on the field, that's usually that. Shut down. But you wanted help. Said so, yourself."

Frowning, the mecha attempted to make sense of that and found he could not. "I don't really understand, but I also feel like I've been...away for a long time. Information is only coming back in bits and bytes."

"Probably scrambled something, somewhere," Jaraxis reasoned. "And if you want a name, just make one up."

"How can someone create a name for themselves if they don't know who or what they are?"

"Huh, maybe I should have sold you to old G'ren. You're turning out to be trouble already!"

"I'm...sorry."

Jaraxis snorted and then jumped down onto the carrier beside his companion's head, planting one large foot firmly on a flat, black projection situated over the robot's brows. The alien gripped the edge of the metal piece with his toes, the three long digits and one thumb-like claw grasping it with ease.

"Does this thing serve any purpose?" he inquired.

"I...I don't know. Should it?"

Jaraxis huffed. "You're asking me? You've got parts to you I've never seen in any scrapped soldier mech. I'd like to know where they picked you up. Anyway, this thing seems like it's just a creative embellishment of some kind, but seeing as how you have it it, we'll just call you 'Ryn'."

"'Ryn', as in 'wing'?"

"Well, it looks a little like a wing. It's curved up over up where your brows would be and ends in a pair of points, although one is a bit broken off right now." The furred creature held out his two clawed hands to where the robot could see them, his fingers and palms arranged in the shape of a "V."

The mech considered that a moment and then nodded. "Ryn works, then."

Unfortunately, even the slight motion of Ryn's head was enough to take Jaraxis by surprise and off balance, the Tarthan falling forward onto his belly and over the bot's forehead. He found himself looking into the one good optic of his companion, features reflected in the glassy, blue depths and the focusing camera lense behind it. Ryn cringed more out of embarrassment than anything.

"Apologies."

"Whenever it is you remember how you got into the military, be sure to let me know how you survived this long."

Ryn said nothing as Jaraxis gained his feet again and hopped down onto the carrier beside the mech's head.

"Alright," the Tarthan sighed before glancing back over one shoulder. "I've just spent a good long while fixing you, so I'm going to rest for a bit. Do me a favor and stay where you are in the meantime. This outpost isn't that big and even with only a few others sharing space with us, I don't think they'd want you falling over onto their encampments."

Sighing softly, Ryn resigned himself to spending the night on his back, resting on the carrier. He disliked the idea of making a bad first impression with Jaraxis for some reason, especially since said first impression seemed to indicate he was careless and clumsy. The mech felt as though he ought to be more coordinated than that, but it was like trying to access power through a frayed cable; bits and pieces of information kept failing to come through, sometimes only appearing as partial or even corrupted data files. Ryn longed to understand the reason for the internal conflict, certain that he was not whole because of it.

Perhaps when Jaraxis was ready to speak with him again, Ryn could inquire about seeking further repairs elsewhere. In the meantime, however, he merely shuttered his one good optic and shut down for the time being.

_

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Next chapter... Seeking one's self._


	3. Chapter 2: Partners

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: The insanity continues, although I promise Ryn's scrambled mind will get set straight soon enough. Enjoy. (And again, QuickEdit is the suck. Apologies.)

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**Second Chances**

_Chapter 2: "Partners"_

_Flashes of gold and purple raced back and forth around him, cutting not only through the air, but through the surrounding metal walls, floor and ceiling. Someone nearby was choking, gasping as though being asphyxiated. Metal clanging against metal followed, orange smoke filling the air. Unable to make out any definite forms, he could only shrink back and listen as voices cried out around him, some in pain, others in triumph. Suddenly, a bright purple blast careened clear through his chest, leaving a vapor trail of blue smoke in its wake. He held his hands up to the wound, watching in shock as hydrolic fluids spilled over his fingers and to the floor. Vision failing him, he toppled backwards, the sound of a weak voice calling out after him. One last shot followed and then..._

xxxxxxx

"IRON--Gah!" Ryn sat up too quickly as he cried out, slamming his head into an overhanging lift arm on the carrier. Dropping back against one elbow, he placed his free hand over his cranium, waiting for the internal ringing to cease. "By Primus...what the slag? Argh, my head." 

"Hey, are you trying to wake the entire outpost? What's all the noise and gibberish?" Jaraxis appeared a moment later, hauling himself over the edge of the transport and walking towards the mech, one brow raised and his ears tilted back in annoyance. 

Ryn shook his head, not understanding. "'Gibberish'?" 

"You were speaking some other language, something other than Tarthan. I heard you say, 'my head', but the other words meant nothing to me." 

The mech frowned. "Somehow, I don't really remember what I said when I woke up. Everything is in sort of a haze...like I didn't come out of the dream right away." 

Jaraxis wrinkled his nose, ears laying further back against the virtual mane of fur and hair behind his head. "Robots don't dream. You probably picked up an old memory file while most of your primary functions were in stasis." 

"But I don't know what else to call it. It was something I'm sure I've seen before, but I can't place it. And the voices I kept hearing were familiar, but I don't know who they belonged to." 

"System glitch, no doubt, and one I can't fix on my own. Your memory is just scrambled. Go back into stasis and I'll have you checked out by a better mechanic when we get to Rasha." 

"Rasha? The last great city? When are we leaving?" 

"As soon as the suns rise, which won't be for a bit longer. I'll probably have you walk alongside the transport to save on fuel and carrier mechanical stress. Now, shut down and I'll bring you back online when it's time to go." 

Ryn sighed. "Alright. I suppose I don't have much choice, do I?" 

"Not really," the Tarthan replied before turning away. "You're in my possession and are therefore obligated to listen to me." 

As the robot lowered himself back into a lying position and went offline again, Jaraxis glanced back at him over one shoulder before hopping off the carrier. Where the mech had come from, he hadn't the slightest idea, but it wasn't unusual for his people to occasionally acquire new machinery from traveling merchants...at least when said merchants had been more willing to visit. As it stood and as the war had escalated severely over the last cycle, hardly anyone dared to come near the planet, anymore. But perhaps Ryn had been a foreign servant mech lost in a gamble somewhere and sold to the Tarthan military while trade routes were still open. Still, for a mere soldier, Ryn possessed an uncanny ability to carry a conversation and make use of concepts your average military unit was incapable of. Seeing as how robots did not dream, they would have no reason to even speak of the ability unless the notion were brought forth first by a Tarthan in conversation. 

Something was definitely different about this one, and Jaraxis began to think it less of a malfunction and more of a natural freak occurrence of some kind. Perhaps someone in Rasha could shed some light on the problem. 

Jumping to the ground, Jaraxis wandered back to his sleeping sack and crawled into it, falling into a light slumber within a few moments' time. 

xxxxxxx

"I'm pretty sure Rasha was the city I fled from," Ryn said as he stood beside the rumbling carrier just outside the mountain-like outpost, the machine's anti-gravitational engines warming up as they prepared to leave. "Are you sure I won't be destroyed or arrested if I'm seen? The reason I'm out here is because I ran off." 

Jaraxis stood behind the helm of the transport, making a few last checks. "Ran off, huh? Well, that explains what you're doing way out here on your own, anyway. Rogue bots aren't too common, but if you came from the closest city, then it probably was Rasha. Most other 'cities' left on this planet are either abandoned, destroyed or little more than cowering townships or barrier covered outposts like this one. As for being caught, you won't be. I took the opportunity to repaint most of your armor after making what repairs I could. You've probably been too busy worrying about your so-called dreams to notice." 

Ryn checked himself over briefly, noticing for the first time that a good portion of him was now painted in a combination of tans and browns, much the same hues as the surrounding wastelands. Oddly enough, he noted, he probably hadn't realized the change previously because his grey armored form really wasn't all that familiar, either. "You're sure this'll be good enough?" 

"What's left of your armor is standard military design and what I couldn't fix, I removed and refitted with other parts. You look like you were military once, but citizens are welcome to whatever scrap the army abandons beyond city walls. You're just another junker left behind and rebuilt into a maintenance mech for my scrap business purposes!" 

"I appreciate your help, Jaraxis, I really do...but could you stop referring to me as if I were just property? I can think for myself. I'm not a slave." 

The Tarthan finally turned to face him, a frown on his face. "According to law, you ARE mine. You may be the most unusual robot I've ever run across, but until we get your problems worked out, you have to do as I say. In addition, who do you think paid for all the parts used to repair you? Not only was I forced to use some of the spares I had with me, but the rest had to be bought and traded here at the outpost." 

Although he made no reply, Ryn's fists clenched briefly before his hands fell loose at his sides in defeat. Jaraxis felt one ear droop slightly in guilt, although he wasn't entirely sure why. The law was the law and Ryn was a mechanical ex-soldier, able to be bought and sold. Yet, strangely enough, he still seemed like something of his own person and Tarthans did not keep thinking, sentient beings as servants or slaves. A glitch could be responsible, but could a mere malfunction cause that much...personality in one robot? Jaraxis exhaled slowly, scratching the side of his head with one clawed hand. 

"Hey, Ryn... I'm sorry, but right now there's no other way to get by. I don't know what's wrong with you and I'm sure we'll get it fixed at some point, but until then, just play along." 

"And getting fixed... Does that mean I'll stop having so much free will?" Ryn's expression had gone sour. 

"To be honest, I don't know. But 'free will' as you call it or no, something is definitely wrong with you if you're able to speak languages you don't remember." 

"...I don't want to go back to being in the dark." 

Jaraxis sighed. It was like dealing with a youngster with no direction or real mental discipline. "No one says you have to, but I am saying you have to act the part of an obedient mech for right now. Alright?" 

"...alright." 

"Good. Now let's head for Rasha." Getting the carrier up off the ground, Jaraxis steered it forward, Ryn walking alongside it. "With you walking, we can save power for the portable force field if need be. Most Ch'danth don't care for being out in sunlight, but sometimes a few of the more desperate ones will attack slow moving transports while the suns are out." 

"And if we're attacked?" Ryn questioned, concern evident in his tone. 

"Then you'll get on the carrier and I'll activate the shield. I can more or less get rid of one Ch'danth with the onboard weapons. The only reason I got into trouble moon before last was because not only did the shield fail before I could reach safe haven, but so did the carrier engine. I hadn't meant to be out that long after suns set, but everything died before I could get to the outpost." 

"And we should be able to reach the city before suns set?" 

"We should. No guarantee, but if we don't, you can get on the carrier and we'll make the rest of the trip with the barrier in place. I hate to do that because it burns fuel faster than a mech stuck in overdrive mode, but we won't have a choice, then." 

For a while, they moved along in silence, the outpost slowly receding in the distance behind them. Ryn found himself glancing over the barren slopes and rock mounds with disinterest; everything looked the same no matter which direction he looked, yet he felt he couldn't let his guard down, either. He realized that he had an obligation to protect the carrier and its driver, yet not for the reasons Jaraxis mentioned previously. No, it was more because Ryn owed the Tarthan for the repairs, the shelter and the consideration. Granted, he had saved Jaraxis' life and in turn the little alien had saved his, but nowhere in their unspoken, honorable contract did circumstances dictate that the Tarthan escort the mech to the city to find further help. Again, "help" might translate into losing his free will, but the more the robot pondered the problem, the more he realized he would rather be a mindless shell than half a live being with virtually no memory, anyway. He was already growing weary of having to ask so many questions, remaining in a state of near constant confusion. That in mind, it might as well be all or nothing. 

Glancing down at the furry transport pilot, Ryn struggled with a sudden feeling of fondness for the Tarthan. Jaraxis reminded him of someone, somehow, but he could come up with a name or face. Yet another frustration to overcome. 

"Jaraxis?" 

The Tarthan didn't look up, his eyes still on the route ahead. "Yeah?" 

"I...just wanted to apologize for the trouble I've caused you. You didn't have to repair me after the fight with the Ch'danth, much less trade and sell your personal goods to help me. I realize I'm not really worth all that much to you. And since I'm not much of a fighter, I'm not sure I could even defend you and the carrier if we came under attack." 

"Yeah, well... Not like I really know what to do with you, anyway. I can't very well sell you to make back my money because who's going to want a mech that doesn't follow orders and questions everything? So I figure I'll keep you around for a while. Beats traveling alone, I guess." 

Ryn arched a brow. "Er, thanks. I think." 

"Look, just don't worry about it, alright?" Jaraxis replied, glancing up at his companion briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "What's done is done. Right now our priority is reaching the city alive. Maybe one we're there, we can talk about how you can repay me for all the kindness you keep insisting I've been showing." 

Ryn shrugged a bit and fell silent, not really satisfied with the situation as it was, yet knowing that nothing would change for a good long while. 

As the suns continued their daily journey across the bluish-pink shy overhead, so the robot and Tarthan continued on their way towards the city. Near suns set, Jaraxis began to give away hints of anxiety, constantly glancing around for signs of danger. Ryn followed his keeper's example, remembering that a strike could also come overhead, optic and audio receptors open to both ground and skies. The circumstances remained favorable until Rasha came into view in the distance, the glittering, golden force field covering dozens upon dozens of high rise towers. 

"Jaraxis..." 

"Yeah?" 

"We've got a couple of problems." 

The Tarthan glanced at his companion, eyes narrowed, ears laying flat against his skull. "Where?" 

Ryn pointed up with one finger. Overhead, a pair of Ch'danth circled, silver wings beating hard against the evening air. Jaraxis immediately set the transport to autopilot and withdrew his shock weapon from its holder, nearby. 

"Get on the carrier, Ryn," he ordered, eyes never leaving their foes. "So long as they don't decided to dive, we'll be alright." 

"Too late!" 

Ryn backed up, readying himself as both Ch'danth descended at breakneck speed, wings tucked in and jaws agape in high pitched screams. Jaraxis moved to get the force field in place, but cursed as the panel shorted out and failed. With no other choice but to fight, he hit the brankes on the anti-grav and unleashed a bolt from his weapon, the blue energy lancing through the air and striking one invader squarely. The stricken beast swerved off to one side with a cry of pain before crashing hard into the ground off to the left. The other Ch'danth slammed into the mech, both of them hitting hard in a mad tangle of limbs. As Ryn grappled with the monster, Jaraxis turned his firearm on the pair, looking for a clear shot. 

"Throw it off!" the Tarthan shouted, clawed finger itching on the trigger. 

"I-I can't!" came the strangled reply as the Ch'danth pinned the robot down, one taloned paw pressing hard against his face. "Just...just fire!" 

Jaraxis cursed again, squeezing the trigger...and found he couldn't. "Ryn, get your legs under it! Throw it! HURRY UP!" 

The robot gasped, one hand around his assailant's neck while the other gripped the paw over his head. Suddenly, a panel on his right arm slid open, a metallic nozzle emerging and spraying the Ch'danth's throat down with a stream of white fire. Screaming in shock, the beast withdrew, flesh smoking. Using the opportunity to his advantage, Ryn managed to get one leg under the Ch'danth and hurl it aside. A second later, electricity enveloped it as Jaraxis attacked from the transport. 

The Tarthan refused to let up, frying their enemy where it lay. "Eat volts and die, you stinking pile of-" 

"JARAXIS!" 

Ryn's warning came too late as the second Ch'danth launched itself at the carrier, half its face still missing and one forelimb and wing dragging loosely behind it. Crashing into the transport, it seized Jaraxis in its good paw and then struggled to haul itself further up, mouth open wide to swallow its prize whole. 

"Let him GO!" Ryn's right hand slid inside his wrist and a slim barrel slid out in its place, a blast shooting from it and nailing the Ch'danth in the mouth. 

Rolling up onto his feet, the robot threw himself at the carrier just as the Ch'danth released his victim, Jaraxis landing hard on the deck with a grunt. Careful not to crush his companion, Ryn got his left hand around the throat of the Ch'danth and forced it backwards, the tools beginning to snake from his right wrist hammering the monster with fire, lasers and corrosive liquids. Face, tongue and gums nearly on fire, the creature attempted to wriggle free and escape. Finally, Ryn settled the matter by ramming his entire right forearm down the Ch'danth's gullet, all makeshift weapons firing at once. Neck erupting in a spray of black fluids, it expired, a ripple effect of fire racing down the length of its body and consuming a good portion of its flesh as it collapsed. Turning away from the horrible sight, Ryn looked across the way to be sure the other hadn't regained its feet, but finding that it still lay dead, he glanced to Jaraxis in concern. 

"Jaraxis?" he questioned as he bent down, his right hand once against replacing the tools in his wrist. "Are you alright?" 

"Argh, that cheap force field be cursed!" came the hoarse response, the Tarthan still on his backside and propped up on his elbows, expression twisted in pain. "I don't think I can stand... Probably broke something in my right leg." 

"Give me a few and I'll see if I can fix you up with a splint," Ryn replied before climbing onto the carrier and digging through the open crates of spare parts. 

"Forget that for right now and see if you can figure out what's wrong with the barrier so we're not vulnerable. Probably some loose wires," Jaraxis said through gritted teeth. "I know it was working earlier before we left, but a jolt on the trip must have loosened something again." 

The mech nodded before turning his attention to the main console on the carrier, prying it open with one finger before peering inside. "Can't see much damage off hand, but we'll probably have to take it all apart when we get to the city." 

"Just fix it, already! And if you can't, drag me over there so I can do it!" 

"Right." 

Allowing the laser welder to extend from his wrist again, Ryn poked around in the panels until he located a couple of disconnected wires. Welding them back into place, he shut the console door and messed with the controls until the barrier activated, careful not to crush the small buttons with his large metal fingertips. 

"Good," Jaraxis sighed in relief. "Now we can get out of here." 

"I'm setting the autopilot on a course for Rasha," Ryn responded after a moment, the vehicle rising up and pulling out again. "And while we're making the last part of the trip, I'll have a look at your injury." 

The Tarthan nodded as his companion turned back towards him, managing to sit cross legged on the most open part of the huge deck area. "Looks like I was right about you... You're no soldier. You're some kind of...doctor robot. All those welding tools and such. I mean, I noticed some internal attachments on the diagnostics when I reattached your arm, but I thought they were defunct weapons since none of them would really respond to electronic inquires." 

"You didn't check me over thoroughly enough to know what they were?" 

"Hardly. After looking under your chassis and finding I didn't understand half of it, I just did the minimum without bothering things I didn't understand." 

Ryn nodded, expression unreadable as he found a bit of flat metal he could use as a makeshift splint. Carefully, he felt over his patient's wounded leg until he detected an anomaly in structure before wrapping the split in place with a length of rope and work cloth The Tarthan flinched, teeth gritted, but did not pull away. 

Ryn frowned as he gave his assessment. "You won't be able to walk for a while and as soon as we get to our destination, you'd better find a Tarthan doctor." 

Pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, Jaraxis nodded, still grimacing in pain. "My people have flexible internal structures and heal quickly, but you're right. It'll be a few suns and moons before I can walk on my own." 

"Right. So don't push it," the mech warned, jabbing the other's chest lightly with one finger. 

"Tch. You're as bad as my grandmother." 

"I'm not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment." 

Jaraxis eyed the sudden grin on the robot's face. "You can decide when we meet her, since we're heading straight for my scrap yard and home when we get in. And Ryn?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks. We're running even, now." 

The smile on Ryn's face vanished, replaced with a frown. "Why don't we just quit keeping track and just call it all even as partners? You said earlier you were stuck with me, anyway." 

"Good point." Jaraxis held up his right hand, clenched into a fist. "Deal, partner?" 

Ryn grinned again before clenching his fist and tapping his metal knuckles lightly against the mechanic's. "Deal." 

It was then the communicator on the control panel buzzed to life, a staticky voice hailing them. "This is Rasha Lookout Five. Please transmit your carrier ID. A barrier door will be opened once you are cleared." 

Scooping Jaraxis into one hand, Ryn held the Tarthan before the console so he could reach the comm switches. 

"This is carrier zero-seven-seven-four, registered under Rashan Junkers. Just back from a routine scavenging trip near Rocky Point Outpost." 

Silence over the line for a moment, then, "You are cleared to enter, zero-seven-seven-four. Proceed through the portal and welcome home." 

"Thanks, Lookout Five. Junkers out." Jaraxis then leaned back in Ryn's hand with a smirk after shutting down the comm. "So I take it this means you'll be my legs for the next few suns and moons?" 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"Probably not." 

"Here, then." Ryn picked his companion up, depositing the Tarthan on his right shoulder. "You ride and I'll steer. Just give me clear directions or I might crash this scrap heap." 

Jaraxis snorted. "Just don't break the consoles with your oversized hands, screwhead." 

"Hey, I'm a medic, remember? I've got a naturally delicate touch." 

"You're asking me if I remember? You can't even remember your own real name IF you even have one, much less how or why you ARE a doctor!" 

"Ah, shut up and direct, already, you little hairball." 

"Bolt brains." 

"Radar ears." 

"Rust bucket!" 

"Fur face!" 

Ryn suddenly laughed and, a moment later, so did Jaraxis. Continuing on with their companionable little game of insults, they entered Rasha and lowered their force field, the barrier shutting securely behind them.

* * *

_Next chapter... The Dreamkeeper._


	4. Chapter 3: Dreamkeeper

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Apologies for how long it took me to add a new chapter. I actually had this one and the next written when the last was posted, but I ran into a few plot problems and didn't want to put up anything new until I had worked them out. Also, I'd like to note that the term "cycle" as used here isn't equal to a "cycle" as given in general TF measurements. Rather, in Tarthan measurements, it's equivalent to a full year's time.

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 3: "Dreamkeeper"_

Fortunately for Ryn, the carrier did not need to be driven through the main streets of middle Rasha to reach the scrap yard. Rather, they avoided the larger clusters of buildings and stuck to the outskirts, riding around to the right side after passing through the open barrier portal. Ryn found himself a bit nervous to be back in the place he had run from, but it seemed no one paid him any mind as they made their way through, apparently thinking him just another privately owned mech. Here and there, soldier robots patrolled in singles and in pairs, sometimes along with a hover vehicle manned by a Tarthan officer or two. Once or twice, an armed robot would pass with a Tarthan soldier on its shoulder, the smaller being directing the larger.

"Special forces?" Ryn muttered quietly as yet a third rider and robot passed them.

Jaraxis nodded. "The Mech Riders, if you don't recall. The strongest mechs paired with the smartest officers, working as a team. They have more freedom than your average military grunt."

"That make us Junker Riders?"

"Har har. Very funny, Ryn. Now just take us to the left down that old road and we'll be home."

The robot grinned and did as asked. Soon enough, they pulled the carrier up short of a sprawling scrap heap, a somewhat broken down house nearby with a large workshop out back. After shutting down the anti-grav, Ryn climbed off the deck and back down to the ground, Jaraxis still perched on his right shoulder.

"We'll go to my workshop first," the mechanic said, pointing out the building. "I've got a recharge unit in there you can use."

"Sounds good to me. After tangling with three Ch'danth and putting up with your lip, I'm exhausted."

"Just walk, already."

Ryn made his way towards the entrance, stepping over a few small piles of jumbled parts as he did so. The main door, which swung upwards, was large enough for him to get through without having to stoop, the entire place constructed with servicing large machinery in mind. Inside, he found a number of work benches and tables, various projects and tools laying out and about. Overhead, several large panes of translucent plastic set in the roof allowed sunlight to stream in between the metal rafters.

"Set me down over there by that control box and then lay down in the recharge unit," Jaraxis instructed. "I'll get it going and then go let the old one know we're home."

Ryn plucked the Tarthan from his shoulder and set him down. "So what's the plan after that?"

"Nothing for the time being. We both need rest and I need food. We'll see about getting more supplies and such after suns rise."

"And my repairs?"

"Getting there." The mechanic activated the device once Ryn had lain down inside the shallow, coffin-like structure, energy beginning to wash over him. "An ex-military scrapper might be able to help us. We'll see about finding one following a supply run. So just relax for now, Ryn. This world may be on its last legs, but I doubt the end will come as soon as tomorrow. We've got time."

"Right. By the way, you ARE planning on seeing someone about that leg, aren't you?"

"I'll see what my grandmother has to say about it. She spent some time studying medicine, although not necessarily in the scientific sense. Just get some rest, Ryn."

As the robot shut down, Jaraxis limped to the nearest table and found a metal rod long and strong enough to support his weight. After one last look at his companion, the Tarthan made his way outside and closed the door via a switch on one wall.

"No one would want a functional mech like you, Ryn," he sighed, hobbling towards the house. "And while I could probably make a fair amount selling you for spare parts, don't think I'd want to at this point. I don't know what you are or where you came from, but fine by me if you learned to call this run down rust pile 'home'."

xxxxxxx

_So many bodies, so many dead. Ryn stood watching as faceless mechs loaded the ruined robots into metallic coffins, sealing them one after another and carrying them slowly and sadly onto waiting space crafts. Once, he tried to ask one of them what was going on, who the dead were and how they had perished, but no one seemed able to see him, much less hear him. One by one, the coffins vanished from sight, gone up the ramps and into the ships' cargo holds. _

_Finally, seven last containers were brought out, each of them still open and varying in size. Someone was speaking, giving a eulogy, perhaps, and troops of the living marched by, each passing and looking upon the faces of the deceased. Cautiously, Ryn joined them, moving along the line, but unable to fully recognize those in the coffins. They seemed so familiar, as if they were old friends, but he couldn't put names to their faces. But as he came to the final coffin, he stopped, paralyzed with horror. _

_The corpse of the last in line was..._

xxxxxxx

As it turned out, the recharger had a timer on it, switching off automatically sometime before suns rise. The moment it shut off, Ryn sat bolt upright, good optic wide open. He blinked once, realizing that the dream had ended and that the suns were rising outside, the first rays of light filtering in through the skylight overhead. Putting one hand to his head, he squinted, trying to make sense of the vision he'd experienced, yet could not make heads or tails of it.

Before he could think much further on the matter, however, shouting reached him from outside the workshop. A smaller door set into the larger one burst open and an older Tarthan barged in, leaning heavily on a carved wooden walking stick, her graying hair down to her waist and tied with a length of blue cloth. Both ears jingling with metal earrings and other ornaments, she wore what looked like a simple shawl over a full length, green fabric robe, her gnarled hands and tail decorated with rings. Behind her came Jaraxis, wearing clothes much like the ones he had the suns before, although with a brown vest over the dark body suit. He still hobbled, using a length of metal pipe as a crutch and his injured leg now wrapped more securely with thick bandages and supported with a brace of some sort.

"--waited until suns rise to tell me all this?" the older Tarthan was saying angrily. "You and your father were both the same! I always warned you about things like this, but you never listened to me! No, always convinced visions from L'ranna were nothing, but hallucinations!"

"Grandmother, by the claws, calm down!" Jaraxis countered, looking as though he had a headache the size of the carrier. "And you can talk to him, now. I didn't bother to tell you last moon because for one, you were too busy scolding me about my leg. And secondly, HE was already in stasis."

For the first time, the grandmother noticed Ryn sitting up, watching both of them with a bewildered expression. Losing her irate tone, she left her kin and ambled closer to the recharger.

"You must be Ryn," she began in much more composed tone. "My grandson tells me you saved him twice from the Ch'danth."

"Well, I suppose," the robot replied, blinking slowly, not sure what to make of all the fuss. "Although both times, if not for his talent with a shock weapon, I wouldn't be here, now."

"Ah, these boys, always playing with their accursed weapons!" she said with some irritation. "His father and twin brother died that way, trying to make a living off this scrap yard and getting killed in the process by Ch'danth. This one thinks he can do better, inheriting the entire business and having only worked it a mere three cycles on his own. No one ever listens to their elders anymore, I tell you!"

Behind her, Jaraxis buried his face in his free hand, muttering to himself. Ryn found himself dumbstruck, not sure what to say to all that.

"Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your help," she went on, smiling again. "I also wanted to meet the one who has been visiting my visions, lately."

The mech blinked again in surprise. "'Visions'?"

"Hardly anyone in this city believes in the old ways anymore, but some of us still remain true to the ancient beliefs and are given visions by L'ranna. She guides us when no one else will, keeping our people alive despite the invasions of the Ch'danth."

"Grandmother is a Dreamkeeper," Jaraxis explained. "Supposedly a mouthpiece for L'ranna, although I've never heard much from her that makes sense. If you ask me, it's all from the pipe root she keep smok--OW!"

Ryn winced as the elder smacked her grandson soundly over the head with her walking stick. Suddenly it became clear why Jaraxis had such a bad headache.

"Enough jokes and back talk from you!" she cajoled, shaking her stick threatening in his direction. "I'll speak more with Ryn when the two of you get back from your supply run. Now move along! Time slows for no one!"

"Argh, alright! Alright! C'mon, Ryn. Let's go before grandmother here pounds my head down between my shoulders!" Jaraxis growled, rubbing the sore spot between his ears where the last strike had landed.

Walking over and kneeling down, the mech allowed Jaraxis to climb into one hand before sitting him on his right shoulder. He then looked to the mechanic's grandmother. "By the way, I didn't get your name?"

"N'chala, but no one ever calls me that, anymore," she replied, pleasant once again. "Just call me 'Grandmother', dear."

"Uh, sure." Ryn rose to his full height again. "We'll be back later, I guess."

She nodded amiably. "That you will be. And look after that trouble causing grandson of mine! At least there's finally someone with him to make sure he comes back in one piece!"

Jaraxis tapped the side of Ryn's head with one hand in irritation and the robot took the cue, exiting the workshop. Once outside, he picked up a crate full of spare parts as indicated by his companion, managing to tuck it under one arm. Walking past the scrap yard, Ryn then headed for the main city.

"Hey," Ryn began after a few moments, somewhat hesistant. "I'm sorry to hear about your father and brother... I didn't know-"

"Don't even start," the other interrupted, still irritated. "It happened a good long while ago. You don't have to hand out sympathy over it. I'm fine."

"Oh, right."

The silence held between them for another few moments before Ryn spoke again.

"You know," the mech commented with a smirk as he walked, "I could REALLY feel the love back there."

"Oh, cool your vocal synthesizer," Jaraxis grumbled, mood still soured. "I don't really think she's crazy, but some suns I really do wonder if she has been smoking too much pipe root. Mouthpiece for L'ranna, my tail."

Ryn frowned. "And what about the visions she mentioned? The ones about me?"

"Ah, ask her later. Sometimes I think her aging mind is just too addled to know reality from her so-called L'ranna granted visions."

"Speaking of which, I really have no memory of L'ranna or any reference to her in my data base."

"Or you just can't access it. Then again, your former employers don't put much stock in the old ways, so I doubt that information was even added to your memory banks."

"So who is she?"

Jaraxis sighed, leaning back on his free hand. "Some old prophet or something from the time before Tarth was fully colonized. Supposedly, this planet was inhabited by a more sophisticated race before ours, but most of them left or died out or something by the time we got here. L'ranna was one of the last ones and helped our people get their start. The legends don't even describe what she looks like, anymore, they're so old."

"Anything to do with the Ch'danth?"

"Hardly. Our war with them is as recent as the last five cycles, but they've taken over quickly because of their power to regenerate and multiply so quickly."

Ryn frowned. "My data on them states they aren't really a race so much as a plague. What of that?"

"They are a plague. Like some kind of living collective, probably controlled by some giant hive brain somewhere, which we've never been able to find. Some top military fellow once tried firing a homing device onto a wounded Ch'danth to see if it could lead us to the main lair, but of course the device was assimilated before too long. We know extreme heat can destroy them completely, as can highly corrosive liquid, and that they prefer moons to suns. They also seem to hate the smell of their own burning dead. We don't really know where they came from, though. It was like they just popped out of the ground one day and started invading and destroying everything. ."

"Possibly some form of life that was hibernating here for a long time," the mech surmised as they hit the main streets. "Why don't your people just leave?"

"Before things got really bad, some did, but our leaders are too stubborn to just pack up and leave everything," Jaraxis explained. "The last ones to retreat left with some of the last merchants to come through here, roughly one cycle ago. Right now, our resources are stretched so thin that we'd have to dismantle the army and put all our energy into constructing and launching crafts to get out of here, but the leaders won't consider it."

"Politics. Gotta love 'em."

"Oh yeah."

"So where to?"

Jaraxis pointed down the main street. "Head for the next junction and go right. We'll head for Karinth's shop and see what he'll give us for this scrap lot."

A short time later and after nearly being run down by a pair of bossy soldier mechs, Ryn and Jaraxis arrived at the shop in question, nestled in between a grocer and what appeared to be the foundations remains of a condemned building converted to a small junk yard. From what the robot could gather, it wasn't one of the better ends of town. Not long after arriving and dropping the open top crate, they were greeted by a graying, hunched over, scrawny, middle aged Tarthan with only one good eye and wearing a leather smock. Ryn set his passenger down so he could speak with the dubious shop owner.

"'Rax!" he greeted, a sickenly sweet smile on his face as he clasped both hands together. "So good to see you again! I didn't think you were going to come back this time."

"Hey, I told you I'd bring you a load of goods, didn't I?" Jaraxis replied with a smirk. "Anyway, here you go. What can you give me for it?"

Karinth took his time rummaging through the mess of parts before rubbing his scruffy chin with one black grease covered hand. "Not much. Most of this is obsolete, so I think two hundred is a fair price."

The mechanic's eyes bugged. "Two hundred? You can't be serious! Do you know what it cost me to collect all that?"

"Oh, very well. Two hundred fifty." Karinth then glanced up at Ryn with a half toothless grin. "I'll make it five hundred if you sell me that mech of yours, though."

"Five hundred is what the crate and its contents are worth, at least!" Jaraxis spat. "And Ryn is not for sale!"

"Oh, but I could use a good set of strong, robotic hands to do all the heavy lifting around here," the shop owner continued, undaunted. "As you can see, my previous assistant has seen better days." He indicated the scrap pile with a casual wave of his hand.

Ryn gasped. Another mech roughly his size lay on the scrap heap, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the junk, its optics barely holding any life. Its head was an odd shape, having two fins on either side of it, and its armor was shoddy and cracked with an empty launcher of some kind set on one shoulder.

"You monster!" Ryn growled before he realized what he was saying. "How dare you-"

"RYN!" Jaraxis exclaimed, eyes widening. "Quiet! You are not to speak unless I give you permission!"

"Mouthy one, isn't he?" Karinth commented after recovering from his initial surprise. "And two hundred fifty is my final offer on the crate, five hundred if you include the robot. Although I suspect I'll have to have him reprogrammed to be more...obedient. Quite the rogue you have there, 'Rax."

"The crate only," the younger Tarthan told him through gritted teeth. "Now pay up and we'll be on our way."

Karinth smirked slyly. "Suit yourself."

The shop owner handed over the credits and the pair took their leave, Ryn pulling Jaraxis back up onto his shoulder once more, a scowl on his face.

"You're going to have to learn to be quieter when I'm talking with other Tarthans," the mechanic hissed as he recounted his earnings to be sure he hadn't been cheated any further. "You're the only robot I've ever seen able to act like you do and anyone else who hears you is going to think you're a complete rogue. If you don't want the military to arrest you, don't make so much noise!"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it," Ryn apologized with a soft growl. "Something about seeing that mech laying there barely alive and getting no help really set me off. That Karinth... I don't like him."

"Going to get angry with me next, then?"

"What? Why?"

"Because Karinth and I are in the same business. We both buy and sell scrap from whatever we can find, including mecha."

Ryn fell silent at that, obviously fuming.

"Look, Ryn," Jaraxis finally said after a moment of quiet between them, "all the mechs I've ever sold or scrapped were already torn to pieces with not much chance of repair, left behind by other merchants or the military in the outer lands. Usually by the time my type gets to them, they aren't worth much EXCEPT as scrap. That's why they get abandoned. Now, I agree that Karinth is completely wasting a good mech by leaving that one to burn out on the junk heap, but we can't do anything about that. It doesn't belong to us."

Ryn's voice was softer this time. "Yeah, I know... I'm sorry. I don't blame you, 'Rax."

Jaraxis patted the robot on the side of the head. "I'm sorry, too. Let's just go pick up some supplies and head home."

xxxxxxx

The twin suns had already passed their halfway mark in their journey across the sky by the time mech and mechanic reached their home scrap yard, the former toting a small crate of supplies under each arm. Under Jaraxis' directions, he left the one containing some new tools and parts in the workshop and then delivered the other, containing food, water and a few new garments, to the house.

"I'm going to go speak with Grandmother and then meet you out in the workshop," Jaraxis said as Ryn set him down. "I'd invite you inside here, but well...you know."

"Height issue, I know," the robot replied with a smirk. "I'll see you in a bit."

Just as the mech began to walk away, however, the Tarthan called him back, tone urgent. Hurrying over, Ryn knelt down on his hands and knees to peer through the open door into the main room of the house. Jaraxis stood just inside the threshold, staring at his grandmother, who was seated in the middle of the floor on a woven rug, her two lower eyes shut and the third open, an odd, golden glow emanating from it.

"What's going on?" Ryn whispered, unable to take his optic from the strange sight.

"She's...she must be Seeing," Jaraxis responded quietly, eyes wide. "Having a vision."

Suddenly, the elder Tarthan spoke, her voice eerily even and very much not her own. She sounded several cycles younger, although there was an edge to it that made it seem older than time, itself.

"I have been waiting for you, lost one. You and your kind are needed here; you must save the Tarthans from not only certain death, but from their own ignorance."

Ryn and Jaraxis exchanged a nervous glance, but didn't have a chance to question anything, as the Dreamkeeper began speaking again.

"Enter my chamber and free me from my slumber, lost one. Free me...and know your true name."

And with that, the old one came out of her trance, blinking as though seeing the pair before her for the first time. "Well, what are you looking at, gaping like a couple of starved Ch'danth?"

Neither said a thing, lost for words.

* * *

_Next chapter... The truth revealed._


	5. Chapter 4: His True Name

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Special thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this story. I was a little concerned it wouldn't go over well, what with all the supernatural and mysticism involved, but so far, so good. After this chapter, more familiar faces will start showing up...promise!

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 4: "His True Name"_

"Well?" the Dreamkeeper demanded, eying her grandson and his mechanical companion. "Going to stand there all suns and moon with your mouths hanging open or are you going to say something meaningful?"

"What in the name of Tarth was THAT all about?" Jaraxis finally exclaimed.

"What was what all about?" his grandmother questioned, arching a brow. "I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did!" the younger Tarthan shot back. "Something about waiting for a 'lost one' and how he needed to save us all and go to your chamber to learn his real name!"

The old female got to her feet, taking her staff in hand before bustling off to the stove to make preparations for a meal. "Well, imagine that. Been several cycles since I've been actually used as a mouthpiece. Something about Ryn and his real name, you say?"

"A mouthpiece? For L'ranna?" Ryn asked, almost afraid to know what all this really meant.

"Of course, of course! And according to legend, L'ranna sealed herself thousands upon thousands of cycles ago in some self made tomb somewhere, probably underground. She wanted to remain a source of knowledge for our people and somehow entombing herself was the only way to do that," she explained while busily heating some water. "Truth be told, we Dreamkeepers don't get many visions anymore. Had very few of them in my youth. But lately they've been coming with more frequency and now this. Something big must be up."

"Yeah, like us losing more of this war every day," Jaraxis retorted with a scowl.

"But the gist of the message was that if I go to L'ranna's chamber, I'll learn my real name," Ryn said thoughtfully. "I don't know where that is, but if this prophet or whoever she is knows the truth, I have to find her. I'm tired of wandering around in a haze."

"A good place to start would be the old catacombs beneath the city," Grandmother suggested. "There are probably a lot of burial chambers and empty treasure rooms there, built far below the pipes and electrical systems for Rasha. You might find a few hints there."

"Of course, seeing as how no Tarthan as been down there in several cycles, there are probably a few nasty creatures, as well. Those areas are probably crawling with gutter snakes and other things with poisonous claws and teeth," the mechanic added with a shudder.

The mech remained undaunted. "I've taken a couple of Ch'danth, so I'm not going to let a few creepy-crawlies stop me. You coming, 'Rax?"

"Do I have much of a choice?"

"Actually, you do," Ryn replied as he stood up outside. "You're already injured and I don't want you to get hurt again, but the decision is up to you. Although I admit I wouldn't mind the company."

Jaraxis shook his head, smirking. "Alright, alright. You know how to make a fellow feel important, don't you? I'll go, but only after I've gotten something to eat."

Ryn nodded. "Fair enough. I'll be waiting out in the workshop."

As soon as the mech had departed, the Dreamkeeper turned to her grandson with an arched brow. "Your moon eye still blind?"

Jaraxis' mood immediately fouled. "I still can't see out of it. What's it matter? It's been blind for as long as I can remember."

"The blindness does run in our family."

"Doesn't mean I'm next in line for your weird powers, Grandmother. How could I be? I'm still not sure I can place any faith in all that weird mumbo-jumbo."

"Even after what just happened, hrm?"

The younger of the pair sniffed derisively in response and went into the next room without another word. Shaking her head, the Dreamkeeper went back to cooking the meal she'd begun.

xxxxxxx

Despite suns set approaching, Jaraxis and Ryn stood ready outside the house to take their leave for a second time once the former had finished his meal. A fabric bag strapped to his back and his favorite shock weapon in hand, the young Tarthan sat on his companion's shoulder, waiting while his grandmother dished out some last moment advice for the pair.

"I never had the chance to tell you about the other visions, Ryn," she said, tone deadly serious, "but I think you're better off knowing late than never."

The mech nodded. "Whatever you think I need to know, Grandmother."

"There's a good boy," the Dreamkeeper replied with a slight smile and nod. "The last one I had was the most vivid and important, so it's the one I'll take the time to explain, now. It happened a few suns ago, just after first light, and I saw you standing in a line with many others like you...and yet, not like you. The others were like walking corpses, but you had a certain...spark of life to you."

"'And that means exactly what, now?" Jaraxis inquired, one brow arched.

"He looked like a sleepwalker, alive, yet unaware of the world around him. A light reached out, up through the ground, and touched him, strengthening his inner life and bringing it to the surface. For a brief moment, his armor flashed white, marked with a red insignia. I knew then he would be an important figure in the following suns."

Ryn blinked. "So L'ranna... She actually had a hand in waking me?"

"It is possible," the older Tarthan replied. "For what purpose aside from what you two heard me say in my trance, I do not know. The specifics are still lost to us, but that is why you must find her chamber and open it."

Straightening up, the mech put on a grim smile. "Will do. Just don't wait up for us."

"L'ranna be with you both!" she called after the pair as they departed, heading for the city. "I just hope all this isn't happening a cycle too late..."

xxxxxxx

As the last light began to fade, the moon beginning to rise, Ryn jogged down one of the main streets with Jaraxis on his shoulder.

"There's a service hatch not too far from here," Jaraxis said as they began to leave what was left of the market crowds behind. "It's rarely opened anymore, except when maintenance workers need to reach something below. Most stay away from the various hatches around the city on the whole, seeing as how rumors of spirits roaming the lower corridors have been built up over the cycles."

"You believe any of that?" Ryn asked, a smirk on his face.

"Ha! No, of course not. Stories like that are for kits."

Another few junctions and an alleyway later, they reached a large gateway made of metal set into the street at an angle, raised on a concrete incline. Using his strength to his advantage, the robot broke the lock holding the double doors shut and wrenched the barrier open, slipping past with some difficulty. Inside, he found a cramped tunnel, barely large enough for him to stand in and lit by intervals of small, blue light lamps set into the ceiling.

"I take it this wasn't built for a mech of my size," he grunted, starting to pick his way forward past the lengths of dirty stone walls.

"Most of the time it's just us Tarthans and a repair mech or two entering the service tunnels," Jaraxis explained. "And seeing as how said repair mechs aren't military material, no, they're only three quarters your size at the very most."

"From what data I can gather from my own memory banks, I know this place serves as runs for electrical wires and plumbing pipes for Rasha. Hopefully, this will widen out the deeper we go. Where did the lower areas come from, anyway?"

"Stories say those tunnels were built by those who came before us. No one wanted to bother with it all from the start due to the dangers of cave-ins and resident poisonous creatures, even though those passages served as the first runs for our power lines. One of the largest in particular is a power well of some kind, which emits a portion of the energy we need to make the force field generator over the city function."

"I'm surprised all this isn't better guarded if that's the case."

"Don't be. The above ground converter and tower for the force field aren't too far off. The military is more interested in guarding those because they're exposed. The underground areas around the power well itself are probably protected by metal doors, locks and pass code boxes, seeing as how no one actually wants to stay down here all the time on guard duty. Don't forget the stories of the supernatural around this place, either. In the early days of Rasha, it's said that sometimes children would wander in here and vanish forever. It only takes so many disappearances to keep everyone out, save the bravest of repair workers."

Ryn grinned. "Think we'll vanish, or do you think we're too good for that after beating those Ch'danth?"

"The only real danger is getting lost or trapped in the underground. Other than that, I don't think we'll have much of a problem."

"Well, seeing as how it looks like the first opening to the next drop is ahead, I guess we'll find out."

Walking forward, Ryn approached a large, grate covered well towards at the end of the tunnel, the opening just large enough for him to fit through. The grate was easily removed and lifted aside. However, with the obstacle cleared, the mech noticed that, rather than a straight drop, the tunnel had a bit of a slope on one side of it. No light could be seen below, meaning that once they were through the hole, they were out of Tarthan territory. Sitting down on the edge, Ryn pushed off and allowed himself to slide down with ease on his skidplate with Jaraxis hanging onto his perch with both hands, ears pressed flat to his skull and tail looped around the mech's neck to keep himself firmly in place. After what Ryn estimated to be around a twenty body length drop, he finally came to a stop, metal feet contacting hard ground. Standing up, one optic glowing slightly in the dim light, he regarded the pitch black tunnel ahead with an arched optic brow.

"We should be alright," he commented thoughtfully, bits of data streaming from his memory banks as he considered the options. "I have night vision from my stint in the military. And you Tarthans... That third eye is-"

"Blind," Jaraxis interrupted suddenly, ears still flattened back. "I haven't been able to see out of it for as long as I can remember. You'll...have to find your way on your own, Ryn."

The robot stood in silence a moment, a sympathetic expression fixed to his face. Finally, he began to walk forward. "Keep those big ears of yours open, then. I'll concentrate on finding our way while you listen for trouble."

"Yeah...sure."

"So you have a defect. So what?" Ryn said, traversing the tunnel at a walk, eying the filthy dirt and stone walls, floor and ceiling as they continually sloped gently downwards. "Hasn't kept you from doing your job."

"Maybe not, but it kept my father and brother from living full lives."

Ryn frowned at the sudden mention of his companion's lost family members. "What'd you mean?"

The Tarthan's voice wavered. "Remember how Grandmother said they died three cycles ago? ...they misjudged the time a trip took and got caught in the open after suns set. They might have had a chance if they could see in the dark, use their moon eyes... But once the power on the carrier failed and the lights went out, they were easy prey. The bodies were never found...only the transport...and the blood stains."

"'Rax, I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. None of it is your fault." He forced a small smile. "You apologize too much. Now keep your optic on the road and keep moving. I'd like to get this over with before too long."

Ryn nodded and picked up the pace, descending ever lower in the catacombs, soon reaching junction points made of stone and metal archways. Twice, they met up with a gutter snake in the dusty halls, but no amount of fanged striking by the slimy creatures could so much as put a scratch in the mech's tough ankle armor. Using his welding tool, Ryn carved markers by each archway they passed, hoping to use the signs to find their way back later.

Time seemed crawl by the further they traveled, although both swore they could somehow feel the moon had already reached its zenith outside. It was as they passed their tenth junction that Ryn hesitated, glancing around, his scanners running high.

Jaraxis sat up on his perch, ears perked. "What? Why'd you stop?"

Ryn took one step forward, optic narrowing. "You feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"That...vibration. It's like the air is almost...humming."

"I don't feel OR hear anything."

The robot began moving again, taking several steps before breaking into a quick jog. "It's like an energy field! This way, I think!"

"Easy, Ryn! It could be some kind of ancient trap! Or maybe just the power well! Slow down a little!" the Tarthan warned as he clung to his companion, the jolting motion making his voice jump a bit.

But the mech did not slow. Rather, he picked up the pace, almost sprinting headlong down the tunnel, feet pounding against the stone floor and sending clanging echoes through the corridors. Jaraxis shut his eyes and hung on, teeth gritted. He felt his companion take a hard right, then a left. Finally, after barreling down three different tunnels, Ryn came to a grinding halt, nearly throwing the mechanic from his shoulder.

"What now?" Jaraxis growled, his wounded leg aching from all the jarring motions. "Why'd you stop suddenly?"

"It's...a dead end," came the mystified response. "Solid rock wall. But the energy emission is stronger than ever."

"So where's it coming from?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's something on the other side?"

"And if there is, how do you propose we get past the barrier? Breaking it down might cause a tunnel collapse!"

"And if we don't find a way to open it," Ryn said as he raised one hand, stepping towards the barrier, "then what's the point of being down here? If that chamber is real and has never been found, it means it's well hidden."

"I'm still not sure about this," Jaraxis sighed. "Are you sure your scanners aren't malfunc--"

The Tarthan was cut short as a dull glow suddenly lit up the face of the wall, making it possible for him to see, even though the light nearly blinded his unprepared eyes at first. Ryn stepped back, his hand having grazed the wall, his one optic wide with shock. Slowly, the glow spread from where his hand contacted the surface, arching into several curving shapes. Like glyphs, they covered the entire surface of the wall, pulsing with golden energy.

"What on Tarth..." Jaraxis breathed, cat-like eyes reflecting the odd glow as they adjusted to the sudden burst of light. "How did you do that?"

Ryn stood dumbfounded. "I-I don't know! But some of those symbols... They're... They look..."

"They what?"

"They...I feel like I should know them, somehow!"

A grinding noise reached them, then, the stone wall sliding upwards in a shower of dust to reveal a pitch black chamber beyond. Ryn blinked, feeling the energy field increase in intensity. Something on the other side of the threshold was calling to him. Putting one foot hesitantly before the other, he entered the room. Behind him, the golden light began to spread, flowing along cracks in the side walls to a point up ahead, illuminating a metallic alter of some kind with a transparent orb set into the top. Tubes and wires connected to it snaked to the debris strewn floor and vanished beneath it through precisely drilled holes, each marked with another strange symbol. Behind the altar was something that looked like an ancient, half circle shaped console, most of it rusted away and utterly useless.

"Bodies," Jaraxis whispered suddenly, shivering a little. "There..."

Ryn glanced to his side for the first time and noticed the corpses of several mecha there, laying prone and ravaged on the metal flooring. While old enough to bear several layers of thick dust, they still looked far more sophisticated in design than the majority of the Tarthan army droids.

"What happened here?" Ryn wondered out loud, his voice echoing dully off the chamber walls. "It looks like there was a fight!"

But Jaraxis wasn't listening. Both eyes staring blankly ahead of him at the alter, he spoke in a monotone. "Ryn...put me down."

The mech glanced at him in surprise. "What?"

"Put me down. NOW."

"Al...Alright."

Plucking the Tarthan from his shoulder, Ryn set him gently on the floor in front of him. Carefully, hobbling on his wounded leg, Jaraxis made his way towards the alter, eyes wide and staring. When he reached it, the mechanic stopped and remained still for several long moments before turning, his lower eyes shut. His Moon Eye opened, milky white and unseeing. He stood as if in a trance, arms dangling loosely at his side.

"Jaraxis?" Ryn took one step forward, but stopped as his companion began to speak...in an ancient female voice.

"Welcome, lost one," the Seeing Tarthan intoned, a tiny, yet cold smile crossing his face. "You have done well in finding me...and waking me...Autobot Ratchet."

* * *

_Next chapter... Memories restored._


	6. Chapter 5: Restoration and Rescue

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Anyone else noticing a bit of strong Jak II/Jak 3 influence, here? Ah well. Great games and I am a huge fan. And beware another homage to Pura's fics in this chapter. Enjoy. :)

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 5: "Restoration and Rescue"_

Ryn fell to his knees, both hands climped over the sides of his suddenly ringing head. Single optic wide, he stared at the Tarthan in front of him, vision starting to cut in and out between brilliant flashes of memory. Grunting in pain, he struggled to keep from collapsing completely.

"Yes, the past can hurt," came the female voice again, echoing out of Jaraxis' mouth, his lower eyes still shut, his blind Moon Eye open. "But you must embrace it...or be doomed to repeat it. Recall your true name...and your history, Ratchet!"

One of Jaraxis' hands raised and the orb on the altar lit up like a star, a single bolt of energy leaping forth to strike the mech and engulf him in energy. The images began to flash more swiftly across his vision, familiar voices echoing eerily in his head, the non-Tarthan language quickly ceasing to be gibberish.

_Prime wants a run made for Earth and Autobot City..._

_Got an extra seat on board?_

_Sure. You goin'?_

_I figure I might as well. Medical supplies are running low._

"Iron...Ironhide!" Ryn gasped, images of the familiar red mech returning to him.

_Glad to have you along, Ratchet._

_Yeah, the more, the merrier! They'll probably need your help in the City, anyway, what with those two young punks Blurr and Hot Rod always causing trouble! _

The tears began to slip from his optic as two more mechs took shape in his mind. "Prowl...Brawn... No! You can't! The shuttle...THE SHUTTLE!"

The sound of tearing metal came to him, as real as though it he were living the tragedy a second time. As the wall exploded inward, they flooded in, weapons blazing. The grunts and cries of dying robots filled his audio receptors, smoke pouring over the control deck. His own body shuddered in pain, his torso twitching as though laser fire had cut clear through it.

"No! NO! The others...THE CITY!"

Ryn slammed into the floor, twitching violently, everything flooding back in a mad rush of information. Certain his head would explode, that his internal systems would fail, he could only lay there and let it all happen again. Finally, the last image flew past him, vanishing an instant later. Gasping weakly, Ryn remained where he was for the moment, trying to process everything he'd just seen, attempting to connect it to everything he knew of his current situation. So many gaps, so many things that didn't seem to make sense...

"There is," the female voice said suddenly, "one last memory you need witness, but it is not your own."

"Wh-why? Why all of this?" he demanded, trying to get his hands underneath himself to rise shakily.

"Because you requested a miracle...and a miracle you were granted."

Ryn was hurled back into another place and time, but not any he was familiar with. It all happened quickly...too quickly... The door to a launcher room in Autobot City burst open in a plume of fire, two robots rushing in with weapons firing. One smaller mech slammed into a wall as a result of the explosion and slid to the floor where he lay still. Another got in the way of a barrage of fire to save a third. He went down in a haze of sickly gray smoke.

"Wind...Windcharger... Wheeljack!" Ryn's voice nearly failed him. "They...they all..."

"Died." The female voice stated the obvious without a hint of emotion. "As did you."

Ryn remained in a kneeling position, hardly caring that a small puddle of optic fluid had formed by his knee joints. "Then how...? Why? What's the point of showing me all of this?"

"As you died, you asked for a chance to save the others. ...this is your chance. As you have re-awakened on Tarth, so have they, but they are not fully in possession of their wits, their memories. Their sparks remain...disconnected, as yours was before your contact with me."

"But how did all of this happen? Ressurection isn't-"

"I am L'ranna, a herald of the Covenant of Primus. I am here because the ones you know as Tarthans need me to guide them and protect them. Sealed here after most of our kind departed, I have since allowed my spark to seep into this place...this planet. Parts of the astral plane lay open to me and so I have made use of them. Half of The One heard your cries and agreed to deliver you unto me. This planet...its people...they are dying. You must save them."

Ryn got to his feet, still wavering slightly. "But you...if you're part of Tarth, then why can't you do anything?"

"I have no body. It was sacrificed long ago. My connection to the planet leads me to greater awareness...and little else. It is why I have needed Dreamkeepers, like this young one's kin, to communicate. Born blind to one half of the world, I chose to give them sight beyond the natural. But words are useless now... Action is needed. The Ch'danth seek to destroy the Tarth and everything on this planet, eventually overtaking it and creating a barren world of nothingness. They must be stopped. You and your dead comrades...you are the answer."

"Then what do we need to do? Or more importantly, what do I need to do to get them back among the living?"

"Find them. Your exposure to my power will make it easier for you to locate them. Once you have, expose them to this young Tarthan and I will Speak through him and wake them. But time is of the essence... It is not long before the Ch'danth will become too many and too powerful to stop. Find the others... Find all five of them."

"Now wait just a slaggin' nanoclick! How did we all end up here in the first pl-"

"Go, Ratchet. The first lies dying already, his second chance nearly gone. So hurry..."

Jaraxis' hand fell limp at his side and a moment later, the mechanic collapsed into a heap on the floor, Moon Eye slipping shut. As the glow in the room began to subside significantly, the mech hurried forward and carefully picked the fallen Tarthan up in one hand, concern replacing his frustration as he ran one finger along his companion's back. A moment later, Jaraxis stirred and became horribly sick, retching and nearly vomiting. Gasping for air, he rolled onto his back and lay heaving, Sun Eyes half lidded as he tried to bring his companion's face into focus.

"R...Ryn... What...what happened? By the claws, I feel...so sick..."

A small, grim smile crossed the other's face. "It's gonna be okay, kid. I'll explain on the way back to the surface. And...the name's not Ryn, anymore. It's Ratchet."

xxxxxxx

"I'll never hear the end of this from Grandmother!"

Ratchet allowed himself a sly smirk as he jogged up the tunnels, Jaraxis cupped in his hands as he followed the markers he'd left earlier. Despite the seriousness of the situation at hand, he still managed to find a bit of dark humor in his companion's first thought on the matter of becoming a Dreamkeeper.

"So she said the first one to find was already dying?" the Tarthan asked weakly. "How are we going to find him in time?"

"L'ranna said I'd have the power to locate all of my fellow Autobots," Ratchet replied. "Although I don't know what kind of range I'll h--"

Suddenly, he stopped, nearly dropping his passenger, the realization hitting him like a freight train.

"What?" the mechanic demanded after a few choice curse words. "What's wrong?"

"Karinth's junk heap," the mech gasped before breaking into a full sprint. "Wheeljack! He's got Wheeljack!"

"That conked out mech! Ry--I mean, Ratchet, we can't just break in there and take him! He belongs to Karinth!"

"My kind don't belong to anyone!" the other growled back, anger more than evident in his tone. "We WILL get Wheeljack back!"

"Well, you can't just rush in and take him! At least let me try bargaining with Karinth before you break the law!"

"We don't have the time! Besides, I don't think that piece of slag will be reasonable after what I saw from him earlier!"

Jaraxis opened his mouth to voice another protest, but before he could get more than a word or two out, the mech brought one hand over him as though holding a captured insect. Cut off, the Tarthan hammered one fist against Ratchet's palm, a slew of profanity replacing his once logical argument.

"Sorry, 'Rax," Ratchet muttered more to himself than his trapped companion as he managed to climb back into the lit halls. "This isn't really my style, but I lost the guys once before and I won't lose them again!"

xxxxxxx

The streets lay nearly deserted as Ratchet edged down an alleyway near Karinth's scrapyard. Good optic focusing on the high fence surrounding the property, the mech noted a set of swiveling security cameras mounted on two of the support poles. Both were wired into a power box on the inside, fixed to the main building wall. Leaning up against the stone wall running perpendicular to the fencing, Ratchet uncovered the furious Tarthan in his hands.

"If you think for one moment that I'll help you steal that robot--" Jaraxis hissed, but Ratchet gently brought one metal fingertip against the lower half of the mechanic's face to quiet him.

"If you don't, Wheeljack's spark will go out," the medic countered gruffly. "And the only thing I need you to do is get inside and disable that security system. It won't be that hard."

Jaraxis remained unconvinced. "Not that hard? Are you insane? Those cameras rotate too far and too quickly! I'll be seen!"

"Not necessarily..."

"What are you--oh no. Ratchet, don't you dare! I swear I'll pull your core wiring if you so much as--"

Before he could finish, the mechanic found his shock weapon and pack confiscated and his body dunked into a metal waste unit nearby, stagnant rain water mixed with dirt and soot seeping into his garments and fur. Ratchet pulled the filthy Tarthan clear of the mess before he could drown, two fingers gripping him by the back of his vest. Dripping black liquid, Jaraxis offered his companion a look of complete disgust and rage.

"Camouflage," Ratchet said simply, unable to hide a smirk.

"I hate you."

"Difficult to like you at the moment, too, what with that smell you're giving off. So are you up for a little undercover work, or not?"

"Like I have a choice? Just get me in, already."

Reaching up, the mech deposited the darkened, slicked down furball atop the stone wall as the cameras turned away. As soon as he was free, Jaraxis got down on all fours and scurried along the barrier as fast as his injured leg would allow, heading for the back of the property and a pile of junk high enough for him to jump down upon. Once close enough to his chosen drop off point, he let himself slip off the wall and land on his three good limbs, careful not to disturb the pile too much. Flattening himself against a discarded metal plate, Jaraxis perked his ears and swiveled them a bit, listening for sounds of trouble. On the other side of the yard, a pair of thick furred, four legged predators were on patrol, sniffing about with large, wet noses. Dargen. Known for their poor eyesight, but excellent sense of smell and positively vicious nature, they were often the first choice of many Tarthans when looking for a brutal guard beast for outdoor areas.

Backing down the pile and closer to the wall, Jaraxis considered his route options. More than likely, he was downwind of the two Dargen if they hadn't come charging his way, already, but the odds of them staying on the other side of the property were not all that great. Roving, pushy animals, they would eventually sniff their way over while nosing over the piles. Jaraxis would probably need to stay close to the wall and move quickly, staying out of both the Dargen and cameras' range of vision. Creeping off, he began to scuttle down the way towards the fence while attempting to keep to the shadows.

More than halfway to the security box, the mechanic found himself face to face with Ratchet's fallen comrade, the prone form of the mech still sprawled out where they'd last seen him, optics dark. Muttering a few choice words under his breath and hoping all his efforts weren't in vain, Jaraxis crept past and slid up to the wall of the main building. A flick of the claw opened the box latch, exposing the wiring within. After taking a moment to look the mess over, Jaraxis yanked a blue wire from its connection point, cutting off the power to the security cameras, both of which halted facing opposite the scrapyard. Breathing a sigh of relief, the mechanic got down on all fours and hurried up to the fence, hissing through his teeth to get his accomplice's attention. Ratchet appeared and began using his laser scalpel to cut through the fence wiring.

Crouching in a shadow, Jaraxis waited with every muscle tensed, ears twitching slightly with every sound they picked up. Ratchet had only gotten three quarters of the way through when a low snorting reached the Tarthan. Turning his head to one side, he noticed one of the Dargen some ten body lengths away, standing stiff legged, neck fur on end. Small red eyes catching a bit of moonlight from above, it looked positively evil as it bared yellow fangs, catching the scent of something foreign in its territory.

"Ratchet..." Jaraxis breathed nervously, gaze never leaving the nearby beast. "The Dargen..."

The mech uttered a low hiss to draw Jaraxis' gaze to him. Raising his free hand, he motioned for the Tarthan to move towards him and through the opening in the fence. Slowly, quietly, Jaraxis left the shadows, practically slithering over the rough ground towards safety. The Dargen cocked its shaggy head to one side, detecting movement and trying to sniff out the identity of the intruder. But as soon as Jaraxis made good his escape, Ratchet hastily cut through the rest of the fence and pulled it back, stepping into the scrap yard and towering over the guard beast.

"Just try me, mutt," the medic growled in a low tone, optic narrowing.

To its credit, the Dargen kept up a steady stream of snarling as it backed away, fur standing on end. Soon enough, it was joined by its yard mate, although neither wanted to charge down such a large being. Changing out his laser scalpel for a liquid dispensing nozzle, Ratchet shot a bit of corrosive fluid before him, just shy of the pair. Whimpering in confusion as the smell of scorched ground and melting metal reached them, both Dargen retreated fully. Situation well in hand, Ratchet turned towards his fallen comrade, barely able to conceal an expression of worry and fear when he came to face with his old friend's hollow, dark optics. Kneeling down, he gathered Wheeljack into his arms as quietly as he was able, grunting a little under the strain.

From around the corner, Jaraxis hissed in warning. Ratchet turned as he stood up, optics widening slightly as the sound of a hover vehicle pulling around the street corner down the way reached him, shouts and whoops echoing up into the night sky. Knowing full well he could never hide effectively in the yard due to his size, Ratchet made a dash for the broken down end of fencing, but just as he pushed his way through, the shouts turned angry. The mech managed one glance at the occupants of the vehicle as it skidded to a stop in front of the shop before he broke into a run, Jaraxis practically throwing himself at the medic's near leg and grabbing on with all five limbs. Behind them, an intoxicated Karinth and half a dozen of his crew were roaring after them in a drunken rage.

"Don't just sit there, you Ch'danth fodder!" the half toothless Tarthan screamed, slapping the driver on the back of the head. "After them! They're stealing my robot!"

The hover vehicle tore out a moment later, its occupants hauling a variety of long range weapons out of the back compartments as they gave chase. Ratchet groaned under the weight of his cargo and spat out a number of colorful curses as laser fire pelted the ground where his feet had been hardly a nanoklik before. So much for a flawless rescue, but then again, that old Earth saying about "best laid plans"... Turning down an alleyway, Ratchet hoped he could lose their pursuers via a little zig-zagging. As it was, they were having trouble keeping up with the driver so bloody plastered. Meanwhile, just below the bot's right left knee joint, Jaraxis was clinging with enough tenacity to shame a leech.

Two streets and three alleyways later, Ratchet clambered over a pile of wooden crates, breaking two open in the process and raising enough noise to wake half the neighborhood. Things couldn't continue that way. Sooner or later, the military would get involved and everything would go to The Pit in a hand basket. Primus be praised, however, a quick remedy to the situation lay dead ahead.

The lock over the metal grate broke easily under one good blow from Ratchet's unencumbered foot. Kneeling awkwardly, he forced open the underground covering with one hand before forcing Wheeljack's body down the sloped hole head first. Every medic's instinct in him was screaming that his actions were putting his patient in even more danger, but at the same time, he knew he had little choice. It was either hide Wheeljack and draw off their pursuers, or risk being arrested and reprogrammed...or worse. Nearby, he could hear Jaraxis groaning, still attached to his leg.

"Jaraxis, let go!" Grabbing the Tarthan by the back of the vest, the medic held the smaller being aloft for a moment.

"Gonna be...gonna be sick!" was all the other managed to gasp, head lolling to one side.

"You do that." Ratchet dropped his companion down the hole after Wheeljack and slammed the gate shut just as the hover vehicle rounded the corner down the way. "I'll be back!"

After pushing one crate over the grate, he got his feet and changed down the alley, taking the scattered boxes in a single leap.

"There it is! SHOOT IT!" Karinth shouted over the roar of the engines as Ratchet rushed towards them.

A storm of laser fire filled the alley, striking walls, grates and all else as the drunken crewmen tried to steady their aim. One shot caught Ratchet in the right arm, another in his torso, yet he kept moving, dodging as he was able until one jump managed to carry him clear over the vehicle. Staggering slightly upon landing, the bot righted himself in a hurry and swerved out of sight at the next available turnoff.

Karinth swore, foam dripping from the corners of his mouth. "After it, now! Hurry!"

"But the other-"

The junker decked his inferior, cutting him off. "That pile of scrap isn't going anywhere, but I want that Rogue and I want it now! SO MOVE!"

Reeling from the both abuse and one too many drinks, the driver barely managed to get the vehicle turned, engines protesting as it took off again and gave chase.

Down in the tunnel, Jaraxis lay on his back, staring up at what he could still see of the closed grate and the makeshift blockade over it. When the sound of the hover vehicle died away, he slowly rolled over and put one hand to his aching head, his insides cramping up even further. Nearby, Wheeljack lay motionless on the dirt and stone flooring, head turned slightly to one side, optics still dark as night. Slowly, the Tarthan pulled himself upright and limped towards the mech, hauling his weary body up onto one metal leg before inching down the length of it to the torso. Despite nausea and exhaustion, something within demanded that he approach Ratchet's comrade, forcing him onward until he lay on Wheeljack's chest, eyes shut.

Jaraxis' Moon Eye slid open, one hand coming to rest over the horizontal plating covering the lower half of Wheeljack's face. Words began to pour from the mechanic, words he did not fully understand. Something coursed through him and soon after, his body turned numb from head to tail. A part of him warned of sickness and, with his Sun Eyes still closed, he pulled himself forward and tumbled to the floor of the corridor, the Sight leaving him. A moment later, he was sick, vomiting violently before collapsing completely and falling unconscious.

Beside the fallen Tarthan, Wheeljack's optics sparked to life briefly before fading into darkness once more.

* * *

_Next chapter... Back online?_

And...bonus! Sketch of "Ryn" and 'Rax - (copy and paste without spaces) - **users. oco. net/aestraya/rax-and-ryn.jpg  
**


	7. Chapter 6: Together Again

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 6: "Together Again"_

A grating, scraping noise cut through the silence, rousing him from his unconscious state. Sun Eyes opening half way, Jaraxis turned his head to see that someone or something was scooting the crate away from the gateway. Mind still numb from the night before, he squinted, feeling as though he should run and hide, but lacking the energy to do more than roll onto his side. The crate out of the way, the gate opened with a low creaking. 

"Jaraxis?" Ratchet slid into the hole, fatigue visible in his expression. "Jaraxis? Where are you?" 

"...down here." 

Crawling forward, the mech leaned over Wheeljack's body, reaching out to the Tarthan with one hand. "Come on... We need to get home. The streets are crawling with military personnel after what we pulled." 

Jaraxis gazed at the offered hand with an expression of quiet anger, silent for a moment as the events from the past night came back to him. The running, the hiding, the shooting, the law breaking. "...I don't want to do this, anymore." 

"Don't be so childish! I can't just leave you down here!" When the other refused to come forward, Ratchet moved to grab him. Jaraxis back-peddled out of reach in response, eliciting irritation in the medic. "What the slag is wrong with you? Get over here!" 

The Tarthan remained where he half lay on his back, bristling. "...who are you? You're not the mech I used to know, anymore. All that talk about being partners... And then the moment you find out who and what you are, you get all pushy and bad tempered, tossing me about like I don't matter. You wanted your friend,. here? Fine, you've got him. But you don't have me, anymore. So take him and get out." 

Ratchet appeared dumbfounded at first, but then took on an expression not unlike the one Jaraxis' grandmother had right before a particularly nasty lecture. After spitting out a few words and finding that none of them seemed to be the ones he wanted, the medic exhaled sharply and shook his head. 

"...I asked too much of you, 'Rax. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you're this angry. But...I'm sorry. I'm a pain in the skidplate and that's just how things are. But I didn't mean you any harm with any of my actions." 

"Could have fooled me. Ryn wouldn't have done half the things you did." 

"I'm NOT 'Ryn', anymore!" 

"You're not 'Ryn', anymore, or you don't WANT to be 'Ryn', anymore?" 

Exasperation overtook Ratchet's experssion. "I'm not...I can't... Why are you being SO DIFFICULT?" 

Jaraxis' ears lay back, the sound of the other's sudden shouting a bit painful. Yet, as he met the mech's gaze, he swore he could see and feel pain there, partially concealed by anger. Silence hung between the pair for several tense moments before the Tarthan finally got to his feet and limped forward. 

"Sorry," he said quietly. "Guess I'm not myself right now, either." 

Ratchet scooped his companion up in on hand, placing him carefully on one shoulder. "Hmph. Could have fooled me." 

"Very funny." 

"A lot funnier than our current situation. Now sit tight and shut up so I can work." 

As it turned out, shoving a mech down a hole was a lot easier than pulling one out. After much grunting, cursing and groaning on the part of Ratchet, Wheeljack was finally drawn out into the open again, feet first. Pulling the body of the engineer into his arms, Ratchet winced visibly, his right arm and lower left torso sending warning pulses of pain into his electronic brain. Shuddering slightly, he drew up to his full height, hoping he had enough strength and energy reserves left to make the trip back. 

"Went and got yourself shot?" Jaraxis was peering down at the hole in the medic's right arm, which was oozing a bit of hydrolic fluid. "Are you going to make it back alright like this?" 

"I don't have a choice," came the harsh response. "Now be quiet. Please. We're going to have to stick to the alleys and side streets so the patrols don't catch us. I just hope...we're not too late." 

"Wheeljack is still in there..." 

Ratchet cocked a brow at that. "How do you know?" 

Jaraxis shrugged, tone quiet. "I don't know... I feel." 

"I'll take your word for it. Now hang on." 

Breaking into a quick jog, Ratchet carried both of his passengers back into the maze of side streets, homeward bound. 

xxxxxxx

Vision beginning to blur, Ratchet laid Wheeljack into the recharger inside the workshop before activating the unit. Mission accomplished for the time being, the mech turned and slumped down against the base, one hand instinctively moving to cover the wound on his lower torso. Nearby, Jaraxis stood on the floor, pulling off his mud soaked vest and wiping his face down with a clean rag. 

"...defenseless here," Ratchet managed to get out as his internal computers threatened to put him into temporary stasis lock. "Escaped by hiding and doubling back before, but what if Karinth...?" 

"He's not much of an honest citizen," the Tarthan replied, half limping over. "And seeing as how he's half responsible for the noise last night, he's just as likely to get arrested as we are if he doesn't lay low for a while. Just shut down for a while, already." 

"Wheeljack..." 

"Is fine for now. Rest, Ratchet. Don't make me pull the plug for you." 

The medic managed a slight nod before his systems pulled him from consciousness. "Yeah...both of us...need rest..." 

Jaraxis stood gazing up at the "sleeping" medic for a long moment, one ear cocked back in thought. Picking up a welding tool from the nearest work bench, he frowned and sighed heavily. 

"Yeah, both of us." 

xxxxxxx

The suns were just beginning to dip below the horizon when Ratchet came back online again, his systems mulling over a recharge he somehow received while out. Optic flickering on, he glanced down to see that a connection had been fitted into a panel opening on his torso. The tubes and wires ran back to the berth behind him, branched off the main unit in a hasty sort of way. It was then he noticed that the holes in his armor were patched, an internal check informing him that the damage had been given a quick patch repair job. The medic moved to stand up, but stopped when he finally noticed Jaraxis slumped over one of his legs, hands covered in mech fluids and a box of tools and spare parts still open on the floor nearby. The mechanic hadn't even bothered with a full bath after the night's escape and merely went straight to work as soon as Ratchet went offline. 

Due to his usually grumpy nature, Ratchet's first inclination was to poke his companion awake and give him a sound verbal thrashing for not getting any rest after everything they'd been through. But the physician in him knew the Tarthan was completely worn out and waking him now would only endanger his health. After disconnecting himself from the recharger, Ratchet eased Jaraxis into one hand and carried him to a pile of cloth canvas near one of the work benches. Laying the mechanic into the folds, he pulled a bit of it over his companion and stepped back, letting out a sigh of exasperation. 

"Stubborn as his father, that one." 

Ratchet turned to see N'Chala in the doorway to the workshop, her staff in hand as always. "My repairs could have waited. He should have taken the chance to rest." 

"Believe me, I tried to tell him the same thing," the old Tarthan replied as she moved further inside. "But his reasoning was that if he could get you fully functional again during the day, you could spend the night working on your friend, there." 

"I suppose." 

"So what should we be calling you, now, eh?" 

"Ratchet. The finhead in the 'charger is Wheeljack." 

Grandmother smiled. "Not quite the same person you were when you left last moon rise, are you? But it's for the better. With knowledge of who you are, you can save the rest." 

"You know about them?" 

"Another vision came to me this morning, but you needn't worry. It would seem the rest are not in imminent danger. Their life forces beat strongly elsewhere in the city, giving you time to work on the one you've already found." 

Ratchet grunted in both agreement and relief. With such a haphazard set up and few tools and parts to work with, he honestly had little idea of how much time it would take to get Wheeljack back on his feet, again. The very thought of Karinth literally throwing his best friend away like a piece of trash still made the medic's fluids boil in anger. 

"Something troubles you, my boy?" Grandmother questioned,.breaking the silence. 

A part of Ratchet wanted to chuckle and tell the old Tarthan just how "young" he really was, but he suppressed the urge to do so and focused on the inquiry, instead. "More than I care to admit. I don't know how I or any of the others got here, really. I don't know much about L'Ranna or how much helps she can give us. I don't know how we're supposed to defeat the Ch'Danth..." He decided to leave out his thoughts and worries regarding L'Ranna's "chamber" and the bodies strewn about within for the time being. 

"And you don't know how you'll find your way home?" 

"The thought did cross my mind once or twice. I don't know where Tarth is in relation to my home or how long it would take to get back. I...left a war behind. I don't know if it's over or still going on, or even how long I've been away." The mech felt uneasy admitting such feelings, but deep down, a part of him feared he would never learn what happened to his home, his other companions. 

"The last traveling merchants visited roughly a cycle ago," Grandmother replied, resting both hands on her staff and leaning on it. "It is possible that you and your companions arrived with them, somehow. What is the last thing you remember before your awakening here?" 

Ratchet frowned. "Dying." 

N'Chala stood in silence for a long moment, the surprise that registered in her expression melting away quickly enough. "Somehow, I doubt this is afterlife you expected." 

"Hardly. But I figure I'll get answers to my questions sooner or later. Just a matter of living long enough for them to come along." 

"I pray that you do, Ratchet. This old one feels in her bones that you're needed here. And that my grandson needs you, as well." 

The medic glanced to the pile of canvas where Jaraxis lay sleeping, curled up like a cat amongst the cloth folds, his ears flopped haphazardly to one side. Ratchet could do little more than nod slightly in response. 

xxxxxxx

Suns set and moon rise did not stop Ratchet from attacking his next task with fervor. Removing Wheeljack from the recharge berth, the medic set his good friend down on the largest work table available - one large enough to accommodate an average sized labor robot. What built in tools he lacked, he would need to build. What parts he could not find, he would need to modify from others. At least fate placed him in an area where materials were relatively abundant. 

Though out the hours of darkness, Ratchet worked without ceasing via the workshop's lamps, determined to keep his companion from slipping away a second time. Wires and leaking hoses were replaced, circuits checked and armor patched. More than once, Ratchet found it necessary to dig deep within Wheeljack's interal workings, searching for a wire or two that had frayed or burnt out. And while the situation placed him in his element, the mech had never felt so frustrated, determined and concerned over a single patient before. And despite the job at hand, he found himself forced to recall his dying moments, his last thoughts. More and more, he began to believe that their circumstances were his fault and that it was up to him to make sure they got out fully functional. L'Ranna claimed he had requested a miracle and she was right, but at what cost? 

Finally, just after suns rise, the last electrical connection was completed and Wheeljack's outer housing shut and locked firmly in place. Checking the diagnostics screen he set up earlier, Ratchet found that all readings appeared nominal. 

It was time to find out whether or not he had done his job correctly. 

Flicking a switch on the diagnostic console, he sent a small electrical pulse through the monitor connections that would bring the stasis locked mech back online. His own systems tingling with worry, Ratchet stood and waited, watching and alert. Then the activity on the monitor began to pick up, a low beeping indicating that all systems were coming online. 

"Ratchet..." 

"Wheeljack!" The medic gripped the engineer's hand as it raised a bit. Leaning over his patient, he looked his old friend in the optics, barely able to hide the relieved smile on his faceplate. "Thank the Matrix. You had me sweating bolts all night!" 

"Just another reason for me to shove Karinth's own tail past his toothless jowls and down his throat," came the weary reply, Wheeljack's one functional head fin flashing erratically in a low chuckle. "Help me sit up, would ya?" 

Getting one arm around his companion, Ratchet helped him pull into more of a sitting position. "Don't think I'm done working on you just yet, though. You're still a slaggin' mess." 

"You're one to talk. What happened to your other optic?" 

"Don't know, just like I don't know exactly how it is we got here." 

"Slag. And here I was hopin' you'd know." 

They paused in their conversation briefly to watch as the suns rose, their view through one of the workshop windows only partially obstructed by a pile of scrap outside. Wheeljack uttered a long, synthesized sigh. 

"No matter how many times I see that, I can't get used to it. Two suns just don't look right." 

"Ya miss Earth?" 

"In the worst way. You?" 

Ratchet nodded and sighed, himself. "Yeah. Just hope we can make it back."

* * *

_Next chapter... Setting plans in motion._


	8. Chapter 7: Transformed

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Another homage to Pura's fic "Moving On" in this chapter, as well as a friendly little nod to my friend "nom-de-plume13", aka "Josh" (which is especially relevant to the scene, given the Transformer characters we blog play off and on). Also, I'd like to note a character name change, since part of the next chapter has already been viewed by a couple of people. The character named "Trin" was renamed "Kaj", due to the fact that I didn't like the original name I chose. And, in choosing the new name and looking at the dialogue, I also realized one line in particular along with the name made it something of an homage to a limited series comic I used to read entitled _Tellos_. Ah, the fangeekery. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 7: "Transformed"_

"Come on, my boy. Get those eyes open."

Jaraxis rolled to one side and peered up through slitted lids to see his grandmother hanging over him, staff in one hand and a mug of something in the other. Behind her, the workshop stood empty.

The mechanic nearly tangled himself in the cloth and fell over as he struggled to get up.

"Where are Ratchet and Wheeljack? Don't tell me they left!"

"The pair are only outside in the yard, so calm yourself," N'Chala replied before offering him the mug, which was full of steaming liquid. "Drink this. It will clear your head."

Jaraxis could find no reason to argue as dizziness overtook him, forcing him to sit roughly on his backside, again. Taking the offered mug, he drank deeply before grimacing at the bitter taste. "How long have I been asleep?"

"From suns set to suns up. But you needed the rest. And now you need sustanance. Unlike our visitors, you cannot simply pass out on a charger and wake up feeling fine."

"Have they said anything to you? Anything about finding more of their kind or anything else?"

She nodded once. "I spoke with Ratchet briefly. Now come on, then. You need food and a bath. Look at you, covered from head to toe in filth! And I'll need to check that leg of yours again, as well."

Reluctantly, Jaraxis finished the contents of the mug and got to his feet, free hand moving to cover his forehead and the headache throbbing just beneath the surface. As his grandmother turned to leave, he glanced out one window to see the pair of mechs sitting amongst the junk piles, merely conversing. A part of him wanted to know what it was they were discussing, but perhaps it didn't concern him. Ryn was now Ratchet; he no longer needed to be led about like a stray pet lost in the city. And now that Wheeljack was with him...

Jaraxis sighed and followed N'Chala.

xxxxxxxx

"I'd take on Devastator with one arm tied behind my back for a warm cup of energon about now," Wheeljack was saying as he and Ratchet sat watching the suns begin their daily journey across the sky.

"I'll see your Devastator and raise you three Seekers," Ratchet responded with a small sigh, chin resting against one hand.

The engineer chuckled softly, one head fin flashing. "Talkin' big now that we're not there anymore, aren't we?"

Ratchet nodded a bit, noting the sad echo in the other's laughter. Switching to Cybertronian, he sat back and gazed out across the horizon beyond the outer lying forcefield. "How much do you remember about this place, 'Jack?"

"Memory banks are a little scrambled, still, but I remember that retro rat Karinth and his dumber than dirt crew. Don't recall exactly how I came to belong to their lot, though, even with L'Ranna invading my personal space and kicking my spark back online."

"She got to you at some point, then? What'd she show you?"

"It was when you left Jaraxis and I down in that tunnel for a while. And she showed me my own death, lovely moment in time that it was," Wheeljack shook his head, the thought obviously depressing him. "Also a few things about what happened to you and the others on board the Lancet. I appreciate her efforts, but I'll be damned to The Pit if she isn't one cold hearted lady."

"Agreed. But she is apparently Cybertronian, which is how she knows out language and our ways. Her chamber... There were bodies in it. They looked ancient, but were Cybertronian, too."

"Maybe we oughta get back down there and have a look around?"

"I'm not lookin' forward to a second encounter with her. And really, we've got other things to worry about right now. Like where we're all gonna hide and recharge as our numbers increase, and where we'll get the parts to fix ourselves. I've been thinkin', 'Jack--"

"Which is a dangerous thing."

"Don't interrupt," Ratchet replied irritably, even though he couldn't help but smile a little at the mischievous look in his companion's optics. "We need our alternate modes back. With all this junk all over us, we can't even convert to our old ones... And having alt modes that would fit this place would help us get around without being caught. One mech with a junker is nothing unusual, but once Jaraxis is being flanked by a whole mess of us... You see the problem."

Wheeljack nodded before switching to English for a moment. "G.M.T.A."

"What?"

"'Great Minds Think Alike.' Somethin' I picked up from Chip a long while back. But I agree and I think with both of us workin' and that kid helpin' us out, we can do something about some of our problems. We might even be able to find enough in this scrap yard to get started with."

"Hopefully we can afford time for all of it."

"Hopefully L'Ranna will let us know if we don't."

Ratchet smirked and held out one hand to his long time friend. "Yeah, hopefully, but in the meantime, looks like we're back in business, old buddy."

"The dynamic duo, together again." Wheeljack shook the medic's hand, tone giving away the grin beneath the mask. "So should we head inside and ask the kid what he thinks?"

"After you, 'Jack. After you."

xxxxxxxx

A short time later, Jaraxis returned from a bath and his morning meal to find the two mechs waiting for him inside the workshop. Wheeljack sat on the floor near the large work table, tinkering with something he'd found in the scrap yard. Nearby, Ratchet stood working on the recharge berth, his hands buried in wires beneath one open panel.

"'Morning, Sunshine," Ratchet greeted as he turned. He arched his optic brow ridge upon seeing the Tarthan minus all clothing save for a pair of pants and a light brace around his injured leg, his fur sticking out every which way. "Get a bath, didja?"

"'Least he doesn't smell like wet dog," Wheeljack commented jovially.

"How would you know what that smells like?" the medic grumped back.

"Just something I've heard humans say before," the other replied with a shrug. "No offense, Jaraxis."

"Not that I even know what a dog or a human are to begin with," the Tarthan said with a frown. "And I wouldn't have had to soak myself like this if your friend there hadn't shoved me tail first into a dump unit full of dirty water and mud last moon!"

'Jack chuckled. "Ratch has done worse, I promise ya. Just means he likes ya."

The boxy mech scowled. "Oh, hush. 'Rax, Wheeljack and I need to talk with you about a few things that have come up. Neither of us like the idea of imposing on you, but at the moment, we're a little tapped for other ideas."

The mechanic arched one brow. "Just how many more of you are there supposed to be, again?"

"Four," Wheeljack answered. "We know you don't exactly have the space here to house us all, but we'd be glad to scare up the parts needed to expand the shop."

"We also realize work and energy like that isn't free," Ratchet added. "You make your living by scavenging and selling parts, but I'm willing to bet we can add to your funds a whole lot faster if we help you."

"Sure, but how do you two intend to get around? My carrier can only hold one mech at a time and right now, the military is probably still cruising the streets looking for the three of us. Granted, they don't know exactly who they're looking for, which is why they haven't shown up here, yet, but still..."

Ratchet and Wheeljack exchanged knowing looks before the latter spoke up. "Leave it to us, 'Rax. It'll take a little time, but I promise you that once we're through, we'll blend into the local culture just fine."

Jaraxis blinked, not understanding. The two bots just grinned.

xxxxxxxx

Four suns and moons came and went before the first phase of Ratchet and Wheeljack's plan came to fruition. After drawing up plans, building up the workshop a little more and hunting down parts in the scrap yard, the medic put his companion into stasis lock and began what he called Jaraxis' "education in the finer art of Cybertronian tinkering." Wheeljack had wanted to dish out the work first, but Ratchet insisted that the Tarthan was better off learning at his side so that if the engineer goofed up something when it was Ratchet's turn under the scalpel, Jaraxis could help set things right. And, as skilled as he was with an arc welder, the fin headed mech had to admit that he was not the doctor his friend was and that, yes, having a capable set of hands to help him would be best.

Then, charged up and sporting a slightly sleeker look, Wheeljack got to work on Ratchet, following a set of plans good doc drew up, himself.

"Times like this I wish I had Perceptor, First Aid and Hoist here to give me a hand," Wheeljack sighed as he fitted a joint into place. "I'd almost forgotten how messy this was, doin' it by hand."

"You and your kind all have such odd names," Jaraxis commented as he worked on a bit of welding across the way.

"They make more sense if you know English."

"'Eng'...what?"

"One of the native languages spoken on Earth, a planet we fought on for several cycles before our deaths," the engineer explained. "It's a little like Tarth, but with a lot more life and greenery on it."

"Sounds nice." The Tarthan paused in his work. "I can barely remember what this place looked like before the Ch'danth overran it, but it was more like that, then, too."

"Yeah, good old Perceptor and First Aid," Wheeljack went on thoughtfully. "Wonder what they're doin' nowand if they've had to pick up the slack now that Ratch and I are here. Hope they're all alright."

"Are they as cranky as our friend here?"

"Oh, slag no!" the other responded with a good natured chuckle. "Perceptor has a vocabulary you wouldn't believe; nice bot but very long winded. Sort of a...funny accent to his voice, too. Red mech, light cannon on one shoulder. And First Aid... He's something of a kid by our standards, but pretty bright. He'll be a great medic someday, just like Ratch, here."

The pair worked in silence a bit longer before Jaraxis spoke again, this time rather hesitantly. "So...this war you both were in... You think it's over?"

"No clue, kid. I sure hope so, but... Well, it'd already been going on for millions of cycles. Our kind are pretty long lived."

"Millions! How old are the two of you?"

"Well, going by when we last knew our time relative to our home planet, roughly nine million years."

"And a 'year' is...?"

"Similar to a cycle, which in Cybertronian terms is a 'stellar cycle'."

Jaraxis furrowed his brow. "By the claws, you two are old. Really old."

Wheeljack laughed softly. "And you're how old, 'Rax?"

"Twenty two cycles."

"Probably not much older than Spike when we first met him."

"Who?"

"A human we knew on Earth. Both he and his father were mechanics like you, his father more so an engineer."

"So...what's a human like, anyway?"

"A bipedal flesh creature with a lot less hair than you've got, for starters," Wheeljack replied. "But we're about to hit a particularly difficult part in our little operation here, so best keep our minds on the job for now. You can bug Ratch about Spike and Sparkplug, later, huh?"

"Hairless?" Jaraxis wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Eh, alright. I'll bet if we don't get Ratchet online again soon, we'll never hear the end of it."

xxxxxxxx

On suns rise of the fifth day, Ratchet emerged from the workshop with a fully healed Jaraxis perched on his shoulder, walking about a bit to get a few of the kinks out of his recently changed out and refurbished joints. Wheeljack followed, looking mighty pleased with himself, a little more spring in his step than before.

"Well, I didn't fall into pieces upon getting off the table, so I guess you did alright, 'Jack," the medic teased, a smirk on his faceplate. "Being able to see out of both optics is a plus, as well."

"Hey, the kid helped, too," Wheeljack replied. "He'll be a right good engineer someday."

Jaraxis merely rolled his eyes a little. "Alright, so what is you two have done to each other? You keep talking about alternate modes, but that doesn't mean much to me."

"Think we can risk a test drive through the city, old buddy?" Wheeljack asked, obviously eager to get out for a bit.

"We'll have to test ourselves sometime and now is as good a time as any. Just take it slow. I haven't forgotten about you and your reputation as a reckless driver, 'Jack."

The engineer pretended to be hurt. "Me? Reckless? Slag, no. Never!"

"Alright then," Ratchet sighed as he glanced ahead to the road out. "Autobots, transform and roll out!"

Jaraxis gasped as both mechs converted, Ratchet tossing him up before letting him land safely behind the controls of his alternate mode - a closed top hover vehicle with a back cargo area, painted white and red. Wheeljack took on a sleeker form - a low built, white and green closed cab hover craft with fins stretching off the back end. Both sported slightly tinted windows to conceal the fact that they might not always have someone in the driver's seat. The two mechs revved their engines a little bit, testing the waters before pulling out towards the city with the medic in the lead.

"Heh, more like 'hover out'," Wheeljack commented as he followed. "But eh, who am I to be picky? It's just good to hear someone say that, again."

"I'll be happier when it's Ironhide or Prowl saying it instead of me," Ratchet grumbled over the comm link between himself and the modified Lancia. "So, what'd you think, 'Rax?"

The Tarthan didn't answer at first, too busy staring at first the control panel in front of him and then out one of the slightly tinted windows at the scenery as it passed them by. Finally, he simply blurted out an old Tarthan explative in amazement, causing both mechs to chuckle.

Heading down into the city, all three knew they'd just taken a major step in solving several of their problems.

xxxxxxxx

The dark blue and white mech stood with his back to the wall, the flat, wing-like projections on his shoulders scraping a bit against the stone and concrete. On his shoulder, a young female Tarthan dressed in dark blue pants, a light blue tunic and wearing a pink scarf over her head cowered slightly. Before them, a pair of Mech Riders stood with their mechanical escorts, both of which held long range shock weapons. One of the Riders, a male soldier in his thirtieth cycle, leered down at the pair from his slightly loftier perch.

"So what's a little thing like you doin' with a mech like this, eh?" he questioned with a sneer. "Because, you know, we are on the lookout for a small group of bot riding fugitives!"

"This is a waste of time," the other Rider, a slightly older fellow grumbled. "You think a young kit like her is responsible for causing all that noise a few moons ago?"

"Leave us alone! We didn't do anything!" the youth shouted back at them, her voice shrill with fear.

"Then where are your parents?" the first Rider demanded, his bot glaring at the pair with cold optics.

"At...at home," she responded hesitantly. "They let me go out with my mech...sometimes..."

"Surprised they let you out at all, what with that ugly white fur and hideous red eyes!" the first soldier snorted in disdain.

"I am responsible for her," the "winged" mech said suddenly, voice flat and monotone. "She is the only daughter of Master Jenn."

"That rich one living uptown, eh? That explains the privately owned mech," the leering Rider responded before looking to his flank mate. "What do you think, Grawl?"

The older fellow spit off the side of his ride before replying. "Waste of time. Just let them go, Fen. You can get your cheap kicks elsewhere."

"Hmph. Go home, kit," the first growled as the group turned to leave. "Foolish parents, letting their abomination wander about, loose."

Once they had gone, a sympathetic, worried expression overtook the winged mech's face as he glanced to his companion. "Mira... Are you alright?"

"Yes," she lied, wiping tears from her eyes with one hand. "I never should have talked you into coming to market in the first place. I'm sorry, Kaj. It's my fault we almost got in trouble."

"No, it isn't," he whispered back, careful not to let any passerby hear him. "And don't think for a moment that you're anything they say you are."

Mira managed a smile, resting one hand against the side of Kaj's helmet. "Thank you... I'm so glad you're here with me."

He smiled gently in return. The general dislike of Mira's kind - a rare "sub race" of Tarthan with white fur and ruby eyes - had never made much sense to him. She was built the same as the rest, had the same number of limbs and digits, a prehensile tail; there was no reason to discriminate. But then little in the world seemed to make much sense. Oddly enough, it was usually Mira's own childlike innocence and observations that were often the most logical. His life made sense and had a purpose because of her.

"Always by your side, Mira. Now let's go home before your parents miss us."

She nodded and Kaj moved off into the market crowds, unaware that soon their half cycle long friendship would soon be put to the test.

* * *

_Next chapter... Hunter and hunted._


	9. Chapter 8: Invasion

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Hopefully no one minds all the little refs and homages I keep scattering throughout this fic, as there's yet another in this chapter...this time pertaining to one of MariaShadow's fics. Currently, I'm attempting to get chapter nine written, but the going is a little slow, so don't be surprised if it takes me a little longer than usual to finish and upload it. I've also gained a recent obsession with trying to draw all the Junkers, so that's been eating into my free time a little. (I'm far from the best TF fan artist, so sketching these characters takes a while.)

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 8: "Invasion"_

And so the race began to convert Jaraxis' workshop into something more suitable for Autobot use. Every morning at suns rise, the mechanic would leave with Ratchet and Wheeljack in search of salvage to either put to good use at home or to sell off in order to buy the tools and parts they did need. Runs outside of the city were usually concluded by the time the suns reached their zenith overhead, allowing the rest of the time for selling scrap, buying materials and building up the shop. Both mechs worked tirelessly, attempting to keep their spirits up throughout the seven suns and moons following their successful alternate mode operations by exchanging old stories of Cybertron, Earth and sharing their knowledge with Jaraxis.

By the seventh moon rise, the shop was in range of where Ratchet wanted it, sporting twice as much workspace and three more complete recharge berths. The going had been slow due to the morning runs and avoiding competitors, the military and marauding Ch'danth, but at least their situation was steadily improving.

"So then," Wheeljack chuckled as he, Ratchet and Jaraxis enjoyed a time out just outside the newly remodeled building on that seventh moon rise, "Sideswipe chucks a paint bomb right through the door of the officer's lounge and Ratchet here leaps from his seat, dives to the floor, catches the blasted thing and hurls it right back, return to sender!"

"Got a good throwing arm for a doctor, huh?" Jaraxis commented with a grin.

"One of the best, which always took the targets by surprise," the engineer responded before his companion could offer a reply.

The medic laughed at the memory, shaking his head a little. "I'll never forget the noise that no good prankster made when he saw that bomb flying right back at him, either. Spattered him helmet to toe joint with green paint, to boot."

"Ah, I miss the guys," Wheeljack admitted with a nostalgic sigh as he picked at the wiring in a rifle he'd been assembling. "Just not the same without Mirage randomly appearing here and there, and the Twins playing pranks in the halls and quarters. I even miss Gears and his complaints."

Ratchet echoed the other's sigh. "Can't say I miss the complaints, but I do miss the mechs that used to issue them all the time. Really makes me wonder how long we've been gone and if the lot of those trouble makers are still..."

He trailed off there, silence permeating the little encampment for a long moment.

Wheeljack closed the main panel on his new toy and set it aside, leaning back on both hands. "Guess we could find out when things are over, here. How hard could it be to construct a space craft with all the materials this city has to offer?"

"Building the slaggin' thing would be the easy part, but finding our way back? We don't even know where we are, like I keep sayin'," the medic reminded him for about the hundreth time.

"I know, I know. You know me, Ratch. Ever the dreamer."

The Tarthan in their midst maintained his own silence while the mechs conversed. Every time the subject of leaving the planet came up, he grew uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because he'd gotten used to having the pair around. Their banter was entertaining and their ability to haul in scrap dwarfed his own efforts. But more than anything, he figured he would miss the company, period. The life of a junker tended to be a bit lonely, seeing as how you either made it a family business or hired out help, and most of the latter tended to be a rough and wiley bunch of thugs and mercs who only cared about themselves. Scavenging was a high risk career and those involved tended to look out for number one. But the medic and engineer were different. Sure, they possessed an ulterior motive for helping out, but on the whole, they were good beings. Even good friends.

Suddenly, the city wide alarm rang out, echoing off the walls of the tallest structures and spreading to the outskirts. Ratchet and Wheeljack were on their feet in an instant, the latter scooping up his weapon before the pair rushed up the tallest pile of scrap to the top where they could get a better view of the surrounding area. Jaraxis was about to follow when his grandmother came hobbling out of the house.

"Breach of forcefield!" she called as she hurried over, breathless. "...just heard it...on a comm broadcast. The military is going to intercept."

"How many Ch'danth?" Jaraxis questioned as the two mechs came back their way.

"At least fifty. It will be a hard battle. We are fortunate it will be taking place a good distance from here. Yet..."

"Yet what?" Wheeljack questioned when the old Tarthan trailed off.

"Intuition tells me another of your kind will be there," she explained, glancing up at the two mechs. "You will need to help him."

"Ratch?" Jaraxis asked.

The medic stood a moment, optics focused on the side of the city where the breach had likely occurred. A frown of irritation crossed his features. "She's right. Something is telling me the same thing, probably L'Ranna. We'd better roll, 'Jack."

Both bots transformed in the blink of an eye, settling into their vehicle modes and gunning their engines. Jaraxis approached Ratchet to climb aboard, but the taciturn doctor pulled back a few steps.

"Stay here, 'Rax. It's gonna get ugly down there if we get involved. Besides, if the hordes come this way, N'Chala will need you here."

"And if I stay here, who is going to Speak to the next Autobot?" the mechanic demanded. "You two need me with you!"

"We'll find him and bring him back. You can do your job then," Ratchet argued with a growl.

"And if you need the back up then and there?" Jaraxis retorted, taking a step forward. "Come on, Ratchet! I thought we were supposed to be partners in all this!"

"Guys, we're wasting time!" Wheeljack interrupted.

Medic and mechanic continued to stare one another down for a nanoklik or two before the former finally gave in, swinging open one door. "Alright, alright! Get in, already, but I swear to Primus that if you get yourself in ANY trouble, you're on your own!"

"You say it, but you don't mean it," Jaraxis said with a smirk, taking a seat. "NOW let's roll!"

Both mechs sped off, racing at nearly top speed for the source of the breach. In their wake, N'Chala made her way into the house and the little shelter below the flooring to wait out the emergency and pray.

xxxxxxx

"Don't let them break the line! Hold your ground and OPEN FIRE!"

Standing before the oncoming horde of Ch'danth, a crew of Mech Riders and their commander ordered their bots to raise the heavy duty flame throwers they'd been equipped with. As the four eyed, winged beasts came barreling through the hole caused in the force field by a downed power coupling, the mechs unleashed a wave of fire, the incredible heat destroying several of the creatures before they could even get so far as a dozen body lengths within city limits. As the smoke cleared, regular military droids took over, brandishing shorter range shock weaponry as they charged into the fray.

Beyond the makeshift battlefield, other military personnel hurried to rush the citizenry to cover. The high pitched wails of crying kits filled the alleys and streets as parents retreated from their homes and further into Rasha. More Mech RIders posted at various intersections attempted to keep everyone calm, but failed more often than they succeeded. It had been a long time since the city had actually been invaded and the Tarthans within had been lulled into a false sense of security. Their illusion of well being shattered, they practically trampled one another in order to get clear of the danger zone.

Such was the disaster that Ratchet, Wheeljack and Jaraxis found themselves diving straight into, the medic attempting to lead his companion while trying to discern the location of another lost Autobot. When a hover vehicle accident caused by the confusion held them up, both bots transformed and took the streets on foot, Jaraxis riding on Ratchet's shoulder with his usual weapon in hand. Unfortunately, both Autobots found themselves torn between trying to help the populace and attempting to get to their missing companion before anything else could happen.

"Of all the times and all the places!" Ratchet spat as he and Wheeljack took a moment to clear the accident from the street with brute strength alone. "At this rate, we'll miss our chance!"

"Can you get a rough location fix?" the engineer called back over the noise. "If you can find our missing bot, I can stay here and help out these folks."

"There probably isn't much more you two can do that the Riders aren't already handling. This has happened before and the results are always the same," Jaraxis reminded them grimly.

"Think the Riders can hold the line up front?" 'Jack questioned.

"If they can't, we're in trouble. No doubt they're already using every bit of firepower they can afford, as too much more would start to destroy Rasha," the Tarthan shouted back.

Ratchet, in the meantime, attempted to shut out the cacophony around him and focus, his optics narrowing. Somewhere in the sea of chaos, he could sense one of his own on the move. Then again... No, wait. There was something moving, but it was in the opposite direction. What the slag? One signal pulsed near the battle front, the other from somewhere in the maze of streets.

"Well?" The modified Lancia's urgent inquiry brought the medic back to the moment. "Where to?"

"Wheeljack, head down to the main line and see if you recognize any of the bots there," Ratchet responded. "I'm picking up two moving signals, one there and one somewhere around here."

"Easier said than done, but I'll give it a try! Just don't lose touch, Ratch!" Turning away, 'Jack pounded down the way and turned a corner, vanishing from sight.

"This is insane!" Ratchet growled as he began tracking the nearer signal, trying not to trip over panicked Tarthans in the process. "What we really need is for L'Ranna to haul her long dead carcass up here and give us a helping hand!"

The Tarthan on his shoulder managed a smirk. "Thanks for stating the obvious, but don't ever let Grandmother hear you say something like that!"

"Much as I like your grandmother, kid, she ain't here playing bot hopscotch through a throng of screaming people, so she can save it if she ever hears anything like it!"

Suddenly, the medic's comm buzzed to life as it picked up on the military's frequency, spitting static behind a frantic warning from the front line. "Line breach! I repeat, LINE BREACH! Three Ch'danth heading downtown via route nine-nine-two! Intercept and destroy at any cost!"

Ratchet let a few colorful curses fly before turning and throwing himself at the nearest building, climbing hand over foot towards the top.

"The slag are you doing!" Jaraxis exclaimed as he held on for dear life.

"Missing Autobot or no, if those three Ch'danth get any farther in, the heart of Rasha and the entire force field will be in danger!" the medic grunted back before pulling himself onto the rooftop. "They have to be stopped, so shut up, hold tight and pray I ain't too heavy for a stunt like this!"

"A stunt like wha--AAAH! RATCHET!"

Lunging from the rooftop, the Autobot landed roughly on the one across the way before continuing, metal feet thundering against the metal and concrete before a second leap had him sailing through the air yet again...

xxxxxxx

Kaj hissed out a Tarthan curse as he fled down a near empty street, the snapping jaws of three murderous Ch'danth close on his heels. No longer a military bot and finding he preferred the quiet life of Mira's personal guardian, the mech felt fear flooding his neural relays with every loud snap and snarl at his back. Bearing no weapons whatsoever, he knew he would be almost completely helpless if he were caught. Yet, when the trio of monsters had come tearing down the way towards the Jenn family as they tried to join the mass retreat, he knew that if he failed to draw them off, countless Tarthans would be slaughtered, including his "owners."

A wrong turn took the fleeing mech down a dark, dead end alley. Finding himself confronted with a wall rising four times his own height, Kaj whirled to see four pairs of glinting eyes glaring at him as two of the Ch'danth advanced, claws clicking over the hard ground in anticipation.

"Come on!" he challenged with as much courage as he could muster. "I'll take you both apart!"

Feral grins seemed to pass over the faces of both creatures before they lunged simultaneously, tackling the hapless bot the ground. Talons raking over his armor, they immediately sought to crush him under their combined weight, tails wrapping around his legs and wings beating the air as they forced him down. Kaj struggled madly, one hand gripping the throat of one beast, the other seizing the forelimb of another and causing it to attack his head with open jaws. Screaming in pain as fangs tore into the malleable metal around his faceplate, the bot kicked and flailed, managing to rip one Ch'danth's forelimb clear of its socket in the process. Howling in agony, the creature released him and backed away, dripping dark blood from its open wound. Before the other could properly register a response, Kaj tuned on it and slammed the severed foreleg into the side of its head, knocking it clear.

Gasping for air against the stench of Ch'danth assaulting his olfactory senses, the bot grabbed his nearest foe by the head with his free hand and squeezed. One good optic blazing bright blue in determination, his half ruined face contorted into a snarl, he dug his metallic finger tips into the beast's eye sockets, leaving it screaming and writhing until one last good show of brute strength shattered the diamond shaped skull. But the victory was only momentary.

Kaj choked on another gasp as pointed teeth sank into his exposed side, ripping out a hunk of loose armor and wiring. Systems warning of emergency shut down, Kaj whirled and clobbered the creature with its own limb, knocking the mouthful of armor away. Then, with ferocity he didn't know he still possessed, the bot rammed his makeshift weapon talons first down his foe's gullet, twisting the limb so the claws within shredded away the walls of the vulnerable passageway. As the Ch'danth fell to the ground, squirming and ripping at the limb in its mouth, Kaj raised one foot and brought it crashing down on its skull, silencing it it for the time being.

Drained and malfunctioning, Kaj collapsed, fingers twitching. He could feel hydrolic fluids seeping from his wounds, his systems begging for shut down. Barely able to focus on the end of the alley, he squinted his functional optic, hearing something on the approach.

A moment later, a young Tarthan came sprinting down the alley towards him, pink scarf flying out behind her. Kaj felt his insides seize up in horror as Mira came into clearer focus, the third Ch'danth appearing just behind her, creeping into the alley. He reached out to her with one spasming hand in desperation, even though he knew he was too damaged to do anything of use.

"M-Mira! MIRA, BEHIND YOU!"

The female turned and screamed, eyes widening as the beast behind her rose up on its hind legs to strike, jaws split wide.

Two things happened at once. Mira made a mad dash towards Kaj just as something white and red came crashing down on the Ch'danth from the rooftop above, the profanity from the newcomer flying thick and fast. Another Tarthan leapt from the white mech as it wrestled with the monster, the larger, older male managing a decent landing and coming up in a roll to seize Mira in one arm. The male's other hand held a formidable shock weapon, which he then turned on the bodies around Kaj, halting their regeneration and finishing them off once and for all.

Thrashing about, the remaining Ch'danth tried to shake its attacker by smashing it into something, but could not seem to angle itself towards either wall with so much weight on its back. The bot spat out another curse and clung with one hand while the other pulled a weapon out of seemingly nowhere.

"I ain't big on taking lives, lizard, but for you I'll make the exception!" the white mech growled before shoving his firearm inside the creature's mouth. "Now SLAG OFF!"

The Ch'danth's head exploded in a shower of gore, the shot flying out the back of its neck and striking the near wall. Covered in dark fluids, the mech stood up, letting the rest of the body slump to the ground before ejecting a shock from his weapon that burned the remaining bits to a crisp.

"Jaraxis?" the mech questioned, turning towards the darker end of the alley.

"I've got the kit, Ratch, but the Autobot..."

Kaj could hear Mira sobbing hysterically as the other bot approached him, his vision starting to cut out. One metal hand came to rest against the side of his head while the other rolled him onto his side. It was getting harder to hear, his audio receptors leaving an odd ringing in his electronic brain. Mira's crying became more distant. Spoken words were slurring together. The last words he managed to pick up were directed at him, but he could barely understand them as he fell into welcoming darkness.

"...can you hear me? Prowl! PROWL?"

* * *

_Next chapter... The life he thought he had._

**"Bonus" sketch - Junker Ratchet and Jaraxis - users. oco. net/aestraya/junker-ratchet-sketch.jpg (copy and paste without spaces)**


	10. Chapter 9: Liaison

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Slowly making my way through the next couple of chapters. Admittedly, I'm struggling a little with Prowl's character, but he's successfully taken up residence in my head as a character, so I'll eventually manage. More art on the way, also!

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 9: "Liaison"_

Gone were the laughter and story telling from the previous few moons as Ratchet and Wheeljack stood on opposite sides of the operating table they'd prepared, their downed comrade lying unmoving before them. Having hooked up a makeshift life support system via the nearest recharger, the pair assessed the damage and checked the diagnostic report.

"Ready, 'Jack?" the medic asked wearily, gaze meeting that of his companion.

"Just like old times," the engineer sighed with a slight nod. "Let's get to work."

Standing by the smaller door into the shop, Jaraxis watched as the two mechs settled in for a long suns up of frustrating and relay racking work. The invasion had only been barely contained, their escape only made possible by all the confusion in the streets. As he turned to go back to the house, however, he nearly ran into the diminutive form of Mira. Apparently, she had been standing behind him for L'Ranna only knew how long. He shivered slightly as he gazed into her red eyes, but his father and grandmother had not raised him to be as biased as a good portion of the city population.

"I want to see Kaj," she murmured, looking up at the older Tarthan.

"You can't. He's too...hurt...for that right now. And you should be sleeping."

"I can't. I'm too scared. It's...it's my fault he's hurt."

Jaraxis let out a long sigh, ears tipping back. "No, it isn't. It was the Ch'danth. Now come on, or my grandmother will have fits if she finds out you wandered away. You can get some rest and then we'll get you back to your family."

Mira followed him as he began to walk, although reluctantly. "But I can't leave Kaj here..."

The mechanic sighed, not wanting to have to explain everything, not wanting to have to tell the kit that Kaj would no longer be the old bot she knew once Ratchet and Wheeljack were done with him and the Speaking was over. From all the stories 'Rax heard about Prowl, the mech was no kitsitter. Rather, he was the stoic, logical type and a brilliant military tactician. And while the mechanic had learned to accept that the being he knew as "Ryn" lay buried deep somewhere within Ratchet, he was not sure someone as young as Mira could understand the same when it came to Prowl.

"Come on," he said, holding out one hand. "We'll talk more after you wake up, later."

"You'll wake me up if something happens with Kaj, won't you?" she asked, hesitantly putting her hand in his.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't count on it. Ratchet and Wheeljack will be working for a while, I think. But they're good doctors, the pair of them. Kaj will be fine."

"You're sure?"

Jaraxis wasn't, but he dared not say it. "Yeah, I'm sure. Now inside with you, let's go."

xxxxxxx

As suns set approached, Jaraxis fell out of his sleeping sack and pulled on clean garments before meandering into the main room of the house where N'Chala sat meditating on her favorite mat. The older Tarthan cracked one eye as her kin entered, one bangled ear twitching a bit.

"The kit's family will be here after suns set to take her home," she informed him. "I managed to contact them earlier. We may have to do a little explaining regarding her companion, however."

"Are the guys still working on Prowl?" Jaraxis questioned, a hint of worry in his tone.

"Still, yes. Wheeljack came to inform me a short time ago that will need you to Speak, soon."

"Maybe we should wait until then, let Mira see what's going on with--"

The elder shook her head. "The decision will have to be Prowl's. Mira is still too young to fully understand the meaning of all this. Who he is once his life force is fully restored is up to him."

At that moment, heavy footsteps sounded outside the house and half a beat later, Ratchet was kneeling by the open front door, his expression betraying his exhaustion.

"'Rax? We're ready."

Jaraxis glanced to N'Chala. "Grandmother?"

"Go, my boy. Should Mira's family arrive while you are away, I will handle them."

Nodding, Jaraxis left the house and clambered up along Ratchet's arm to his shoulder.

As the bot stood and made his way back to the workshop, he idly considered how before meeting the mechanic, he would never have allowed anything to perch on him in such a way. Somehow, though, having the Tarthan there had become the norm. Ratchet knew he would never be able to say it, but if they lived through the war with Ch'danth and he and rest made it back to Earth or Cybertron, he would miss the feeling of a tail slung companionably around the back of his neck.

"You're sure you're up to this?" Ratchet asked as they entered the shop. "You still look tired."

"I probably look better than you and 'Jack do," Jaraxis replied. "So let's just get this over with. The sooner we know if Prowl's alright, the better."

Holding out his right arm, Ratchet let Jaraxis clamber down the limb and onto the fallen bot's chest. Sitting back on his haunches, the Tarthan took a few deep breaths and shut his Sun Eyes, hoping the experience would not be as jarring as the last time. Holding both hands before him in a meditative pose he'd often seen his grandmother use, Jaraxis focused his thoughts on L'Ranna and Prowl. The two Autobots stood on either side of the operating table, watching intently.

Suddenly, the Tarthan stiffened, his Moon Eye slowly sliding open. Then words began to come forth in Cybertronian, invoking memories and life within the body below him. His body took on a slight, otherwordly glow as L'Ranna channeled her energies through him and into Prowl, the mech's body shivering as systems were forced back online. Both Ratchet and Wheeljack winced, almost able to feel the memory of the shuttle and city attacks as both were recounted.

Then, it was over. Jaraxis' Moon Eye shut, his Sun Eyes opening and rolling back into his head a nanoklik before he simply keeled clean over. Beneath him, Prowl groaned weakly, his optics flaring to life.

"Ratchet... Wheeljack... The shuttle...the others..."

"Easy there," 'Jack assured the confused mech as his colleague removed the nearly unconscious Tarthan. "We know and we're workin' on it. Just relax and stay put for now. How's 'Rax doing, Ratchet?"

"Sick," came the flat response as the medic held the shivering form in both hands. "Jaraxis? Can you still hear me?"

The Tarthan shuddered, eyes tightly shut. "Cold...so cold..."

"I'll get him back to his grandmother," Ratchet said before moving towards the exit. "Stay here and keep an eye on Prowl, 'Jack."

"Roger that."

N'Chala met the mech just outside the entrance to the house, kneeling at her grandson's side as Ratchet gently set him down. Jaraxis continued to shiver, nearly delirious in his current state.

"He'll need more rest," she decided with a frown of concern, free hand upon Jaraxis' forehead, just over his Moon Eye. "The weight he bears is almost too much. I...fear it is making him ill."

The medic managed a slight nod, his attention focused on the shallow rising and falling of his friend's chest. "We'll try to hold off on finding the rest for a while. I only wish L'Ranna had put the burden on my shoulders instead of his. It's my place...not his."

"We all have our place in life," she replied quietly, carefully pulling her grandson upright, one limp arm over her shoulders. "I do admit I have my doubts, but for now, there is no other choice."

Ratchet stood in silence as N'Chala eased Jaraxis back inside and to his room. For a moment, he felt himself return to his domain in the Ark, standing in the medbay and watching as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were brought before him, again. Having executed some new deadly and audacious stunt in the midst of battle, both were horribly wounded. Ratchet could almost see their optics narrowed and their mouths forced into thin, straight lines despite the pain. The Twins were warriors. They did not howl and cry out, no matter how terrible the damage. And no matter how he threatened them, no matter how often he yelled at them and chased them from the medbay, swearing to Primus that he would never treat them again, he knew he would, anyway. It was his lot in life. And it was theirs to take the shots and pull the punches other mechs could not. And they continued on their chosen paths because of war and because they cared, even though neither would openly admit to it.

Oh, how Ratchet hated war. There were no words in Cybertronian, English or Tarthan that could convey his loathing of such waste and slaughter. And even so far from Earth and Cybertron, the suffering continued. When would it end?

N'Chala returned from putting Jaraxis to bed, but before she could speak, a vehicle pulled through the scrap yard entrance and parked nearby, the doors opening to reveal a pair of middle aged Tarthans, male and female. The tawny colored male looked the part of a well to-do citizen, his garments well chosen and the darker, thick ruff of hair on his head brushed back. His mate, a slender, auburn furred creature wearing blue dress robes, bore an unusal trait among her people - red eyes.

"N'Chala Ferrin?" the male questioned as he approached, mate as his side. "I am Palgren Jenn. This is my wife, Jasha."

"Master Jenn, my apologies for all of this," Grandmother responded with a slight bow.

"No need for apologies," Palgren replied with a small smile. "We were just relieved to know our daughter is safe. Most probably would not have helped her. Jasha and I feel...guilty for losing track of her so often. We wish to keep her from the horrors of the world, but Mira is young and curious. Where is Jaraxis? I was hoping we would be able to thank him, personally."

The elder Tarthan frowned, her gnarled hand gripping her staff a bit tighter. "I am sorry, but my grandson is...not well. I will go fetch your daughter, however. Pardon me a moment."

Once N'Chala departed, the pair began talking to one another, completely oblivious to Ratchet's presence. It took a nanoklik or two for the mech to remember that he was an exception to the rule, that the average bots on Tarth did not have sparks and so were treated almost like furniture or just shiny bits of scenery. The Jenn family would have to soon learn otherwise, however, especially if they were to cope with what Kaj had reverted to, recently.

"If you don't mind my asking," the medic began, startling the couple, "where did you acquire Kaj?"

"From a junker auction," Palgren responded with apprehension. "But that is none of your business. Please refrain from speaking to us. We're only here for our daughter."

Ratchet's right optic brow twitched. Kneeling down, he eyed the male. "I realize you're treating me like a regular automaton because you think that's what I am, but I'm not. I am just as responsible for saving Mira as Jaraxis and without me, Kaj as you call him, would be a lifeless hunk of scrap. So I am not your inferior nor your servant... I'm your equal."

The sudden outpouring of words startled the pair into silence for a good, long moment before Jasha managed to find her voice, her eyes wide. "Mira always used to say that Kaj was like this when we weren't around, but I didn't believe her."

"Kaj is an Autobot, like myself," Ratchet went on, trying to maintain his cool. "So I would appreciate being spoken to instead of being spoken ABOUT."

"I see you've met Ratchet." Grandmother was hobbling out of the house again, a knowing smile on her face and a sleepy Mira holding her free hand. "Be careful. He has quite a mouth on him."

"That he does..." Palgren was watching the medic with fascination. "How...how did this happen?"

"If you have a little time, I can explain, but I can't guarantee you'll like what you'll hear," Ratchet replied.

Palgren tuned to his mate and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and then collected Mira, escorting her to the nearby vehicle. Turning back to the mech, the male Tarthan met his gaze out what Ratchet determined was probably respect.

"If this has anything to do with Kaj, it will effect my daughter. Please explain."

xxxxxxx

It was well past moon rise by the time Ratchet returned to the workshop. Prowl lay in his own recharge berth, optics shuttered while he rested. Across the way, he could hear the medic conversing with the engineer in low tones.

"...says he recently left his job as a liaison between merchants and the military," Ratchet was explaining as he sat down on one work table. "Had to quit because there's hardly any trade anymore, especially with the foreign merchants gone."

"He say how they found Prowl?" Wheeljack inquired.

"Junker auction. Just another military bot dropped during a heavy combat situation and claimed by someone who built him back up and sold him off. When the Jenn family bought him, they intended to keep him as a kitsitter for Mira, since her minority status keeps her out of most Tarthan social circles. Her mother's got red eyes, probably an albino recessive gene that runs on that side of the family."

"Sounds like something Perceptor would say."

"Well, he never would quit prattling on about Earth science and biology... Anyway, it seems Palgren is interested in doing what's best for all involved. His biggest concern is Mira. I know he'd like Prowl to go back to his old 'job', but I'm not sure that'll happen. Palgren might be able to help us find the others, though. He mentioned still having some access to old databases with military purchases over the last few cycles."

"If that's true, where did the merchants find us? I died in Autobot City and you in the Lancet. How did we get all the way out here?"

"That's what I'm hoping Palgren can find out. No real offense meant to the local beliefs, but I'm not sure we can rely on getting all our information from L'Ranna. Prophet, Cybertronian or whatever she is, I really hate all this mystic mumbo-jumbo slag she keeps throwing around. It's about time we got some straight answers. Lives might depend on it."

"Maybe we ought to pay her a visit, then. Just ask the questions straight out."

"I don't want to go back down into the underground unless we have to," came the medic's cranky reply. "If we can find the others with only our own efforts and Palgren's help, so much the better."

"And Jaraxis?"

"Sick, apparently. Yet another reason to limit contact with L'Ranna. Seems it's worse every time he Speaks. I don't know what we'll do if his life is put in danger by all this before we find the last Autobot."

"Guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. 'Least Prowl's stabilized with basic repairs complete."

"Yeah. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm calling it a night. I feel like a pile of rusty Seeker fodder."

"You ain't the only one. See you at suns up, buddy."

The two mechs settled into their own berths, the pair closer to the door, and fell silent.

Meanwhile, Prowl lay awake for quite a while after, his logic centers desperately attempting to make sense of all that occurred within the last few suns and moons. He knew what L'Ranna had shown him, or rather what he could finally remember on his own. He recalled everything he had experienced since he met Mira, but the memories spanning between his death and meeting the Jenn family were still somewhat hazy. And while he was grateful to be himself again, to feel whole, he wasn't sure he cared for the methods used to get him that far. Ratchet was correct; all this mystic mumbo-jumbo made little sense and probably could not be relied upon. Additionally, Prowl wondered what would become of Mira now that he would need to rejoin his comrades. Granted, it was his duty and the logical course of action to take; it was not only where he technically belonged, but if they were planning on doing something about the Ch'danth, he wanted to help. Still, Mira was young and vulnerable, in need of someone to keep an optic on her.

But what was he thinking? He was a military tactician, not a babysitter. His job lay with creating strategies, analyzing situations, running numbers and advising his comrades. And yet...

Mira represented one of the few things in his life that made sense after being sold at auction. The entire world seemed to be falling down around him, the people ever oppressed by forces they could not control nor defeat. Mira, herself, was a prime example of discrimination, something that made no sense in and of itself. Yet her observations as a child were to the point and honest, something most Tarthans could not claim for themselves. She accepted Prowl as he was, whereas others would surely not. Mira also saw fit to keep his secret from others to prevent harm from coming to him. The kit had few friends and spent nearly all her time with Prowl, sometimes even sleeping on a pile of blankets out in the garage where both mech and family vehicle were housed after suns set. And, programmed with a massive database of Tarthan knowledge, he would instruct her during daylight on reading and math.

What would become of Mira if Prowl left her to rejoin his war comrades?

Again, the mech felt a twinge of pain as his processor glitched, trying to mull over the problem. The more straightforward the problem, the better, but this was a mess of morals and he found himself torn over how to answer. Perhaps it might just be best if he went to speak to her about everything, to try and make her understand.

Slowly and quietly, Prowl rose from the recharger and made his way across the way to the door. Twice, he glanced at the "sleeping" forms of Ratchet and Wheeljack, but both were so depleted from repairing the strategist that neither stirred in slumber. Pushing open the door, Prowl snuck outside and made his way out of the scrap yard.

For once in his life, he wished for the simplicity of exchanging laser fire with a Decepticon. At least then he knew the stakes, the consequences and his enemy.

* * *

_Next chapter... Plotting military sabotage._

**"Bonus" illustration - Junker Ratchet and Jaraxis completed in final color - users. oco. net/aestraya/junker-ratchet-final.jpg (copy and paste without spaces)**


	11. Chapter 10: Reflections and Research

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 10: "Reflections and Research"_

Prowl knew enough about the city to find his way "home", as it were. The going was slow, however, the mech having to pause and hide himself each time a patrol cruised down the street. Lacking a rider or escort of any sort meant that he would be identified in the eyes of the military as a wandering automaton, possibly malfunctioning. So it was half way to suns up by the time he finally found himself standing before the entrance to the large garage unit annexed to the Jenn residence.

The home itself was more of a small mansion on the better end of town, comfortable and sturdy from inside to outside. It boasted no front or backyard, however, as it was just another building built in between others in the limited space the area had to offer. Approaching the garage, which was large enough to house both himself and the family transportation, Prowl knelt by the main keypad alongside the sliding metal door. A tiny, point-like extension slid from his right index finger, a piece installed by the family mechanic early on in the mech's kitsitting career so that he could access the garage area on his own when he and Mira left home. Using the extension, Prowl tapped in the numbered password, stepping back as the door slid upwards.

The interior stood dimly lit by a single lamplight near the small door leading into the house, the family vehicle parked in its usual spot to the left side. On the right was something of a lowered chair made of metal and designed to fit Prowl, specifically. As the garage was not long enough for him to lay flat in, he spent most of his nights sitting upright in the "seat" of the recharger, his legs extended out alongside the nearby vehicle. He had to get down on his knees to enter the building, but there was enough room for him to turn and slide into the chair once inside, the main door slipping shut behind him.

A small sigh escaping his vocal synthesizers, Prowl rested his arms and hands against the chair side bracers, fingers curling over the edges. A few moons ago, he would have never questioned the idea that this place was truly home. The Jenn family took good care of him, especially in comparison to how the military and most businesses treated their robots. Overall, the company was good, even if Mira's parents didn't particularly understand him or his relationship with their offspring. But now that his memories had returned and his sense of self was once again whole, he realized how much he missed the familiarity of his home planet and Earth. He couldn't help but wonder how the other Autobots were faring and he wondered with trepidation if the war was still raging on.

Who would Prime have appointed in Prowl's absence as his new strategist? Jazz, perhaps? Well, no, probably not. The Porsche was too valuable as Head of Special Ops and definitely preferred his job to that of a tactician. Ultra Magnus, as good of a soldier and leader as he was, was more than likely too busy taking care of Autobot City...or whatever was left of it. Perhaps Springer had risen to the position. The Triple Changer was charismatic and talented as a warrior, definitely a good choice.

Prowl inclined his head slightly, suddenly feeling quite miserable.

Optimus. Jazz. Two of the mechs he respected and cared for most out of those to originally arrive on Earth. No one could ask for a better leader than Optimus, whose compassion for life and level headedness during battle served their cause better than almost any other Prime to lead the Autobots. And Jazz, the mech who seemed to be eternally optimistic and energetic, yet one who knew the details of his line of work better than any other spy in the group. Prowl swore he could hear Jazz teasing him at that very moment, giving him a hard time for being so flustered.

_Come on, man... So you got a problem? So what. You'll figure it out. Wouldn't want Blue to see you like this, would ya?_

Prowl's finger joints tensed as Bluestreak came to mind. The young gunner was a good, although somewhat reluctant soldier. Scarred by the destruction of his city and home long before the Ark first left Cybertron, Bluestreak had struggled at first to fit in with the rest. He had a tendency to ramble nervously at first, eager to talk about anything and everything except his own past. It was only when he discovered that Prowl was a patient listener and problem solver that Blue began to calm down a little bit, able to talk out a few of his real issues. The two formed a unique bond borne out of necessity at first, the younger seeking help from the older, if just to survive not only the war, but his own social difficulties. And while Blue's yammering could become annoying at times, Prowl had dug deep to find the patience needed to deal with him. So, slowly, the gunner had gotten better, his mental condition improving. He became more cheerful and confident over time.

But where was Bluestreak now? Was he alright? Prowl gripped the armrests in frustration when he realized he couldn't know for sure...might never know. Again his internal processors glitched a bit, sending a ripple of pain through his body.

Confusion...how he hated it. The unknown and unexpected were all around him now, closing in more with each passing suns rise. He didn't know all the variables, couldn't calculate possible outcomes.

In a rare moment of physcial aggression, he clenched his fists and slammed them into the bracers, the sound of metal on metal echoing throughout the high room.

"Kaj...?"

Prowl's head snapped to the right, optics immediately picking up on the small figure standing in the open doorway.

"Mira..." He dropped his gaze to the floor, the tension in his hands and fingers evaporating. "I hope I didn't frighten you."

"No..." The kit stepped further into the garage, half carrying, half wearing a large blue bed quilt. "But I heard the door open and...I'm so glad you're back, Kaj! You won't leave again, will you?"

Prowl glanced at her, silent for a long moment before lowering one hand to the floor. Mira crawled into his palm and allowed him to lift her to shoulder level where she climbed off to the right of his head. For several nanokliks, neither spoke, the young Tarthan pulling her quilt around herself and curling up on the mech's shoulder like a cat.

"Kaj?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for coming back..."

The mech eased his weight back just a bit, leaning against the wall and bracer behind him. Guilt clawed at the back of his mind, urging him to say something. Anything.

Optimus. Jazz. Bluestreak. The Twins. Bumblebee. Tracks. Hound. Mirage. Trailbreaker. Inferno. Blaster. Skyfire. Perceptor... The mental list went on and on.

"Mira," he finally said, tone low. "There's something I need to tell you."

He felt the kit's weight shift a little, one fur tipped ear brushing his helmet. "What's that?"

Prowl shuttered his optics a long moment before speaking again, choosing his words carefully. "A story... A very old one. About a group of explorers who left their home planet a long, long time ago in search of something very important..."

xxxxxxx

Palgren was not at all familiar with the words being recklessly thrown around on the other side of the transmission, but judging from the look on Wheeljack's face, they weren't appropriate in the least. The Tarthan watched in stunned silence as Ratchet hurled a tool of some kind clear across the workshop, barely missing a lamp in the process. Wheeljack shrugged and turned back to the viewscreen he'd recently set up in order to receive outside calls through the regular house line.

"Don't mind him. He just gets his wires in a knot every time one of the guys doesn't pay heed to doctor's orders," the fin-headed mech explained in as good natured a tone as he could manage, despite all the raving going on in the background. "So Prowl's holed up in your garage, eh?"

"Jasha found him there this morning, Mira on his shoulder," the Tarthan explained. "Seems he came back before suns rise and she found him out there. Both of them were asleep and so we left them that way until I could get a hold of you."

"Well, at least we know he's safe," the engineer replied before turning to his ill tempered companion. "Ratch, would you knock it off, already? You're gonna break something. Prowl is fine."

"Oh, something is gonna get broken, alright!" came the angry response from just off screen.

Palgren sat back in his office chair, shaking his head. "Perhaps I should keep your friend here for a while, at least until Ratchet calms down?"

"Ah, his bark is always worse than his bite. He'll rant on for a while, maybe throw some insults at Prowl when he gets back and then get on with things. Ain't nothin' Prowl hasn't heard at some point or another."

"Do you think it's possible we could keep Prowl here at night? If just to keep my daughter feeling more secure?"

Wheeljack shrugged again. "Up to Prowl, really. But we do need him back here soon so we can finish his repairs and fix him up with his own alternate mode."

Palgren nodded. "Understood. I'll see about sending him back in a short while. Then I'll see about making contact with a few old business partners in regards to military purchase records."

"Much obliged, Palgren. And I'm sure Ratch sends his thanks, too."

Off screen, another round of what had to be curses followed that statement, although it did sound like the medic was beginning to wind down.

"Do I want to know what all is being said, or am I better off not knowing?" the Tarthan asked out of pure curiosity, one brow arched.

The engineer chuckled. "Ratch has got a vocabulary of profanity horrid enough to make a small army of Ch'danth blush. So you're probably better off not knowing."

"I'll take your word for it. ...just don't let him teach my daughter any of that."

"Hear that, Ratch? Gotta keep the language at a 'PG' rating for the little lady if she's ever around," Wheeljack said, glancing off screen a moment.

"Fah!" the medic shot back, still out of sight.

Palgren shook his head, smiling and not bothering to inquire what "PG" meant, exactly. "I'll contact you again later, Wheeljack. Palgren out."

"Alright, and thanks! 'Jack out." The mech offered a loose salute before the transmission cut.

Getting up, Palgren took his usual suns up cup of steaming hot root tea in hand before heading down to the garage.

xxxxxxx

All involved counted it a good thing that when Prowl returned later, he did not have Mira with him. Ratchet imposed a verbal thrashing on the strategist before demanding he get his aft onto the work table for the rest of his repair work. As expected, Prowl took it with a grain of salt and a shrug, doing as asked without argument. Medic and engineer finished their maintenance work before moon rise, taking a bit of time to explain what had happened with Jaraxis during the previous moon. Of course, Prowl already knew of the situation, but did not indicate as such. Rather, he listened carefully and thus avoided a second tirade over the fact he had been awake during Ratchet and Wheeljack's little chat when he should have been resting.

That night, Prowl returned to the Jenn residence for recharging. He did the same the moon rise afterwards, as well. Unable to quite convey his underlying affection for Mira in words anymore, he chose to express his care for her in the only way he could - by being under the same roof via his own free will. Deep down, he knew "Kaj" was still within him somewhere, but it was not a side he cared to let out often. As with many of the others, war had hardened him over the millennia to the point of covering up any possible emotional weaknesses. Part of being a successful strategist was giving advice based on numbers and facts, not playing favorites due to emotional attachment. Prowl knew Mira wouldn't understand that...might never understand it. She was still coping with the story he'd told her about the Autobots, their troubles and his role in all of it. And Prowl himself was still dealing with the thought that, in the end, he would have to make the very difficult decision of either going or staying if the opportunity arose for the Autobots to go back to Cybertron.

It was two suns rises later when Prowl finally went "under the knife" for alternate mode conversion. His new design, created by both Ratchet and Wheeljack, was similar to his old Earth based mode, but like theirs, was completely without tires and relied upon anti-gravitational devices. His old black and white color scheme mostly returned and tinted windows in place, Prowl finally felt as though life were regaining some degree of regularity.

Also about that time and shortly after the operation, Mira began visiting the scrap yard, riding with Prowl when he left the Jenn home. The youth remained a bit shaky on the idea of her Kaj being Prowl, instead, but insisted on staying at his side as much as possible. Palgren and Jasha were wary of the idea at first, until N'Chala assured them both that the kit would not be allowed to leave the grounds with the bots when they went hunting for scrap, even within city limits. It was in this way that Prowl was able to continue Mira's basic lessons in reading and arithmetic when he was not occupied with other work. The other two Autobots drew a certain amount of amusement from the unusual teacher and student relationship, but did their best to hide it, 'lest the tactician become embarrassed and discouraged.

Nearly three suns following Prowl's conversion, Palgren contacted the group again via viewcomm with interesting news. The three mechs gathered around the screen, Prowl with Mira on his shoulder and Ratchet with a recovered Jaraxis upon his, the mechanic still irritable after his grandmother refused to let him out of the house until the suns up before.

"Before I tell you about my research into how you got here, I'd like to bring something else to your attention," Palgren began as he gazed at those present via view screen. "A military contact of mine who I spoke to recently informed me that a growing group of Ch'danth has been gathering a fair distance from the city. Those in charge are concerned they'll eventually attempt to breach the force field, so plans are being made as we speak to stop them before they come within range."

"How many Ch'danth do they estimate have gathered and just what is the military's plan to stop them?" Prowl questioned, ever instinctually interested in running the numbers involved with battle.

"The last rough count was over one hundred Ch'danth," came the concerned reply. "And the plan is pretty much to overtake them via sheer numbers and firepower, probably using a surround and overwhelm type of tactic with the usual corrosive bombs, fire and shock weaponry."

"Those military bots might need some help, then," Wheeljack suggested with a wink.

"We'll see what can be done," Prowl agreed before turning back to their informant. "And what of your search on our arrival here, Palgren?"

"I can't say my research has revealed the complete truth. And I can't even assure you that the information is completely accurate at this time due to how many of you there are and how many shipments and merchants used to pass through Tarth, but it's a start, nonetheless."

"So what've you got?" Ratchet asked gruffly. "Anything is better'n nothing."

Palgren split the screen, letting his image slide to the left while electronic lists began scrolling down the right. "Every mech, military or no, is assigned a number which stays with it, no matter the owner or organization it belongs to. I began by tracking Prowl's information first, since I had it all on hand. Before being sold to the military, he was owned and transported by an interplanetary merchant group called 'Noven.' A few Tarthans were employed by them at the time, but the business was primarily owned and operated by an alien race of larger bipedal creatures called Occan."

An image of the alien species in question appeared in place of the data for a moment, its size making it at least twice the size of an average Tarthan. Judging from the purplish hue and texture of the skin, it appeared to have almost armor like scales covering the whole of its lithe, almost primate-like body, large, almost owl-like eyes placed in a forward position on the blunted head. The mouth was small, a ruff of auburn fur starting from the corners and running down sides of its neck and onto the chest like a backwards mane. Each foot supported three clawed digits while each hand bore six thin, dexterous fingers.

"If the information is not in your databases, the Occan are famous for their mechanical know-how," Palgren continued. "Before the war with the Ch'danth escalated out of control, they were our chief suppliers for mechs and spare parts alike, bringing in goods from other planets and star systems. They are similar to our own Junkers, however, in that most of what they sell is repaired or refurbished space refuse."

"But all of our bodies came from Earth," Prowl cut in. "And those creatures are too large to have gotten in and out of Autobot City without being caught."

Palgren was silent a moment, one ear half cocked back in thought. "What do you do with your dead?"

"Depends," Ratchet replied. "Some are taken back to Cybertron to find their final resting place, others are left on Earth. In some cases, if there isn't much to lay to rest then memorials are erected, instead."

Wheeljack snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering something. "Memorials like the Great War Mausoleum! Remember? It was that project started just before we left on board the Ark. But I don't think it was ever finished, seeing as how the war only escalated after that and the Great Shut Down ocurred while we were all in stasis on Earth those four millennia."

"I know there were intentions to finish it, but no one really did much about it before our deaths," the medic reminded his old friend.

Prowl shook his head. "Casualties actually remained low until that point in time. If we were killed during those assaults when defenses were down and our energon supplies running so dangerously low for the first time in years, how many others could have died? If enough perished, the remaining Autobots would have had reason to finish what was started so long ago."

"So...where was this great mausoleum built?" Jaraxis inquired with a frown.

"It was never designed to have a specific location," Wheeljack responded, realization hitting him, his optics widening. "It was meant to be independent; a free floating barge-like craft. And it wasn't necessary for anyone to man it, either! It had a security system in place, but-"

"Nothing is failsafe," Ratchet finished, realization hitting him and Prowl as well as they glanced at one another. "And if the others placed us on that mausoleum and sent it out into open space..."

Prowl nodded, shifting his gaze back to the screen. "It could have been hijacked or broken into."

Silence hung thick in the air for a long, tense moment before the strategist stated what was on all their minds. "There are other possibilities, but the facts and theories point to the most likely reason for our arrival on Tarth... Grave robbery."

"That actually leads up to a point I wanted to make about the planned attack on the Ch'danth," Palgren said grimly. "I didn't think the solution would be quite so morbid or shocking, but... In checking your number and data, Prowl, I cross-referenced it with the other mecha sold to the military at the same time by that Noven merchant."

The elder Tarthan rattled off a series of numbers, leaving both medic and engineer gaping.

"That second number is mine!" Wheeljack exclaimed.

"And the last one is mine," Ratchet added with scowl. "Six numbers total, including Prowl's, meaning..."

"The other three are probably your missing comrades," Palgren concluded with a slight nod. "Again, there is no absolute guarantee that they are, as it's possible the other three numbers belong to automatons the merchant picked up elsewhere. However, having checked into those numbers just to be safe, I found that all three are still military enlisted, two of which are currently scheduled to go out with the front line attack group to see to those Ch'danth."

The Autobots exchanged determined glances, Ratchet extending the arc welder from his right wrist with furrowed brow ridges.

"If that's the case, I think it's time we got back to work, fellahs. 'Cause unless we wanna end up as Ch'danth chow, we're gonna need more firepower and one grand slaggin' plan to go with it!"

* * *

_Next chapter... Charge of the Junker brigade._


	12. Chapter 11: Badlands Brawl

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 11: "Badlands Brawl"_

"Carrier zero-seven-seven-four, registered under Rashan Junkers, requesting permission to leave the city." 

"Permission granted, zero-seven-seven-four. Take care and be back by suns set." 

Jaraxis cut the transmission from where he stood on the deck of his hover carrier, watching as the force field before his odd crew shimmered and vanished, momentarily. Engine rumbling steadily, Prowl led the way out in his vehicle mode, followed closely by Wheeljack. The mechanic eased the carrier forward after them, Ratchet bringing up the rear. As the barrier closed behind them, Jaraxis turned his gaze towards the glowing horizon, noting the first rays of light as the twin suns began to rise. 

On the other side of the city, platoons of military mechs were already on the move, as well, exiting the city and marching in the opposite direction towards the target area. Palgren had estimated during his last call the moon before that it would take them approximately one quarter of a suns to get there. No one was allowed to leave via the other side of Rasha, nor travel in the same direction as the military, and seeing as how most Tarthans would be crazy to willingly follow such a death march, anyway, Prowl figured their best bet was to leave on the opposite end as if merely leaving on a regular scavenging run. The junker Tarthan and the Autobots comprised a far smaller, faster group capable of covering ground more quickly, allowing them to get out of the city and to the battlefield in time for the meeting of the two sides simply by traveling beyond the nearest watchtower's range of vision and circling around. 

True to his field of expertise, Prowl led the group out just far enough to find cover beyond some rock formations and sloping ridges before turning and leading the way around. After circling back a bit, he then angled out again, leading the convoy roughly parallel to the moving ground troops. Jaraxis could not see or hear the military bots, but Prowl assured him over their closed communication connection that his sensors pinpointed them, allowing the junkers to stay well out of sight and still keep pace. 

Before the suns reached their zenith, the junkers arrived at their predetermined destination: a high, craggy rock formation a fair distance from the battlefield. Beyond the dirt brown boulders lay an open plain of short, rough grass, upon which over one hundred Ch'danth trod. Irritable and edgy, they paced and snapped at one another, almost as though their meeting had been planned, yet the lot had not yet been given orders or dismissed. Downwind of the scaly beasts, the three mechs and their Tarthan ally settled in to wait as the military caught up and began executing its planned maneuvers. As the slate gray bots fell into position, the Ch'danth ceased their bickering, their hundreds of beady eyes trained on the platoons and the few Mech Riders assigned to command them. 

"Never seen so many Ch'danth in one place, much less in the middle of suns," Jaraxis breathed from where he perched on Ratchet's shoulder, the medic crouched behind a ridge of rocks and dirt. 

"Kinda makes ya wonder about their smarts and if there isn't more to this than we know," Wheeljack mused, stationed on Ratchet's right side. "I know we've always said they're like a collective, but this is just plain weird." 

"Palgren's most recent reported stated that they've been gathering like this for several suns, now," Prowl said flatly from Wheeljack's other side, the tactician's right hand resting on the side of his helmet as his optics focused and telescoped in on the hideous army of beasts. "It would seem that those to arrive first have been here the entire time, as no military feedback reports them leaving the plains. The military is right to engage them here and now; these Ch'danth are probably half starved and another attack on Rasha may have been forthcoming." 

Ratchet grunted in concern. "Let's just hope this doesn't turn out to be some kind of trap, then, because the three of us are hardly a match for even one tenth that many. And that's keeping our new weapons in mind." 

The strategist frowned, optics narrowing as he watched the proceedings closely. "Here comes the first barrage. Ready the rifles." 

Jaraxis stood up with ears perked as a round of flash grenades were launched from the front line, arching through the air with a high pitched whistling before landing in the midst of the enemy. As the first few exploded with blinding light, their heat burning and disintegrating anything within range, the Tarthan eased back onto all fours, the smell of scorched Ch'danth carrying easily on the breeze. Below him, Ratchet shifted as he brought a wicked looking sniper rifle to bear, one optic lining up with the scope. Nearby, the other two mechs leveled identical weapons, the muzzles aimed at the group of Ch'danth as the first few front liners led the charge and the entire scene erupted into a mad frenzy of fire and flailing wings and claws. 

"Steady, fellahs," Wheeljack advised, the three focused as they each adjusted their scopes. "Remember the ammo in these things won't explode until embedded, so aim for the legs and torsos. Don't want the Riders to notice their targets completely droppin' without taking hits from the troops!" 

"Advise, Ratchet," Prowl added. "Find our mechs and give us directions." 

Scanning the now crowded and hectic scene before him, the medic attempted to focus his attention on locating their missing comrades. True, the three Autobots were a fair distance off, but with the aid of the scope, he was able to place himself in and amongst the two clashing sides and sweep the ranks. Several nanokliks passed as he studied the field, then rattled off a set of directions in degrees. Prowl and Wheeljack zeroed in on the location. 

"Brawn and Windcharger alright, and done up ugly as slag, but at least Palgren was right," 'Jack commented as he eyed their lost friends through his scope, the two wayward mechs fighting side by side in their dull gray armor and using close range shock weaponry. 

Prowl chose a target, finger poised over the rifle trigger. "Jaraxis, keep your eyes and ears open for any stray Ch'danth. Wheeljack, Ratchet...let's get phase two underway. ...fire at will." 

The three squeezed off their shots one after another, the silencers attached to the muzzles muffling the sound of the bullets as they left the barrels and sliced through the air towards their targets. Each one found its mark, burrowing into the flesh of three different Ch'danth. Half a moment later, the monsters cried out in pain as the projectiles released the acid they carried, crippling them enough for the nearest mechs to finish them off. Again and again the three Autobots fired, wounding their enemies just enough to keep Brawn and Windcharger in the clear and busy with killing off pre-wounded foes. Meanwhile, Jaraxis continually scanned the area around them, nervously listening and watching for signs of trouble. 

Slowly, the battle began to wind down, the tide turning in favor of the military. As more and more Ch'danth fell away, their bodies consumed by electricity and fire, Prowl ejected the acid ammunition clip from his rifle and pulled a new one from his arsenal, fitting it into place with a smart, sharp click. The other two lowered their weapons, watching intently. 

"You're sure this'll work?" Ratchet questioned, tone concerned. 

"It should," Wheeljack replied, fins flashing a confident white. "I was careful in calculating the needed radius on the burst. Should be enough to cripple, so long as our sharp shooter here aims low." 

Prowl brought the rifle to bear again, sighting through the scope. "I'll admit I have my doubts as well, Wheeljack. If this fails or if something malfunctions, we might lose them again...and I don't mean to the military." 

The engineer was silent a moment, optics focusing on Brawn and Windcharger where the pair stood on the field, bathed in Ch'danth blood and running low on energy. "...we won't, Primus willing. Just aim for their legs, Prowl. Right below the connecting hip joint." 

Hardly one to sweat it out on the field of battle, the strategist found himself forced to dredge up a little extra courage to steady his hands. Silently, he sent a quick prayer for sure aim and mission success off to Primus. Trigger finger at the ready, he waited until the two lost bots finished off the last nearby enemy. Via the data Palgren provided and from what Prowl had witnessed thus far, neither of lost companions had yet begun to come back to themselves; they still belonged to the military. Once through with a short term objective like eliminating a foe, they would stand at attention until either orders were given or until a new threat presented itself. 

Brawn straightened up first, arms dropping to his sides as he faced away from the rocky shelter. 

Prowl squeezed the trigger, the rifle unleashing its new ammunition with a slight shudder and nary a sound. 

A split nanoklik later, the target grunted and fell forward, joint malfunctioning as the projectile embedded itself and burst, sending out a limited radius electro-magnetic pulse. Before Brawn could strike earth, part of the lower half of his body had gone dead on him, leaving him laying helpless. Windcharger took a step towards him as if out of concern, an unexpected move for a bot not yet in control of himself, but then went no further. Prowl took the opportunity to readjust his aim and fire a second time, taking 'Charger in the upper right leg. The stricken bot shuddered and collapsed beside Brawn, arms flailing in confusion. 

Nearby, Ratchet's vocal synthesizer emitted an audible "sigh" of relief. Jaraxis offered the boxy medic a reassuring pat on the side of the helmet, despite the nervous smile on his own face. 

"Prime shootin' there, Prowl!" 'Jack congratulated. "Now we just gotta wait until the battle ends and the remainin' military clears out." 

"Which should hopefully be soon," the modified Datsun agreed as he changed cartridges again. "But let's keep our scopes trained on the remaining Ch'danth for the time being. We want the military to abandon our companions, but we don't want them becoming enemy fodder, either." 

As the suns dipped lower over the horizon, the military mopped up what was left of the Ch'danth and began to clear out, those bots that were either completely destroyed or too damaged to leave on their own two feet left behind. Behind their rocky shelter, the three Autobots shouldered their long range weapons and readied their melee armaments before advancing. 

"Don't let your guard down," Prowl cautioned as the last of the military mechs vanished over the farthest ridge and the three emerged from hiding. "The field appears clear enough, but we all know how difficult the Ch'danth are to finish off if the job's done in a sloppy manner. Weapons at ready and Jaraxis... Keep that personal force field generator we made for you close at hand." 

Leading the way, the tactician eyed the field before them, inwardly disgusted by the blackened corpses and shredded metal bodies covering the stained grasses. Here and there, a Ch'danth twitched, but did not rise, the movement merely a product of a dying nervous system. Behind Prowl, Ratchet edged around the fallen, leading Jaraxis on his hover carrier. Wheeljack brought up the rear, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to check their backs. 

"Alright, as planned," Prowl instructed when they'd reached their fallen comrades. "Wheeljack and I will stand guard while you get Brawn loaded onto the carrier, Ratchet. Once you're through, transform and we'll get Windcharger settled into your hold. Jaraxis, fairing alright?" 

"Just the smell, is all. No wonder the Ch'danth don't like the stench of their own burning dead. It's like charred flesh and burning rubber! And not that I haven't smelled it before, but so many dead...it's just overwhelming!" the small mechanic responded, nose wrinkled and eyes watering. 

"Chin up, fellah," Wheeljack encouraged, although his voice echoed far more seriousness than usual. "We won't be here much longer. Then we can go home, get the guys into the 'chargers and relax a little, ourselves." 

The Tarthan nodded and began to aid Ratchet in getting Brawn and Windcharger into temporary stasis lock before moving the former on board the carrier and locked down. But they'd hardly gotten the mech into place when the roar of a second carrier echoed across the flat. Prowl and Wheeljack drew their rifles, taking up defensive positions as the oncoming vehicle appeared over the hill. Behind it jogged half a dozen mechs, two of them manned by Riders. It appeared the Autobots and their ally were not the only ones to come up with a plan to raid the field that day, despite the rules the military had put in place. 

Wheeljack's optics narrowed dangerously. "KARINTH!" 

"Hold your position, Wheeljack," Prowl ordered, knowing the situation could become explosive if anyone made a wrong move. "Ratchet, Jaraxis, keep working!" 

"Jaraxis!" The toothless junker's grating, glee filled voice hailed the lot through a loudspeaker as his crew advanced. "This scrapped field isn't big enough for the two of us and I owe you for the last time you crossed me! Hope you aren't too attached to those oversized trash compactors of yours! Fen! Grawl! Take them!" 

As the mechs charged forward, each Rider commanding two others besides his own through headsets, Prowl raised his weapon. "Shoot to disable, Wheeljack, while they're still incoming! We can't let them take Brawn and Windcharger!" 

Both Autobots opened fire, their first shots ripping into the lower torsos of two of the unmanned bots. The acid pellets exploded on contact, melting away armor and wiring with a hiss of sickly green smoke. Each had time for two more shots before they were forced to engage, the two stricken controlled bots falling with the last two blows. Melee weapons coming online as they ran forward, both Autobots tried to keep themselves between their comrades and enemies. An energy sword coming to life in his right hand, Prowl lunged at the mech commanded by Fen, the taunting of the cruel Rider still fresh in his memory banks. Nearby, Wheeljack drew out a pair of long energy daggers, dancing away from Grawl's ride as it unleashed a wave of flames. 

In the meantime, Karinth's carrier was circling, two of his crew members opening fire on Ratchet and Jaraxis with their own long range rifles. As a shot nearly missed the younger Tarthan and a second penetrated Ratchet's right shoulder, the medic got to his feet, drawing a pair of modified pistols from the holsters at his sides. 

"Don't stop, 'Rax!" Ratchet called as he returned fire, trying not to inflict direct damage on their adversaries, despite the temptation to smoke Karinth on the spot. "Finish getting Brawn secured!" 

Nearby, Wheeljack took a blow to the back as one of the remaining unmanned bots attacked, fist swinging into him. Whirling, the engineer buried both daggers to the hilts in his enemy's chest before dragging them out to either side, the hot blades slicing through armor like hot knives through butter. A solid kick to the torso forced the mech down and back, 'Jack turning just in time to nearly take a full on flame bath as Grawl's ride opened fire yet again. Hitting the ground, Wheeljack rolled clear and sprang to his feet just as the Rider ordered his escort to draw out what looked like a beam energy short sword. 

Prowl dodged a shock from the other unmanned bot and swung in with his sword, the blade making short work of the connection between the mech's head and shoulders. As the cranial unit struck earth and rolled clear, the strategist seized one of the flailing bot's arms in his free hand and swung it about, aiming to slam it bodily into Fen's escort. The Rider pulled his robot back and had it fire again, the electrical charge barely missing Prowl as he let go of the headless shell and leapt aside. 

"Back off, Karinth!" Ratchet shouted over the cacophony of battle as he defended the carrier and the bots beside it. "I ain't in the mood to put up with your brand of trouble!" 

The older junker sneered as he opened up the loud speaker again. "I think you've got better things to worry about, scrap pile!" 

A startled yelp from behind him caused the medic to turn, just in time to see a badly burned Ch'danth leap onto the carrier, half toothless jaws agape. Jaraxis had barely managed to activate his force field when the beast attacked, scooping him up in its mouth without batting an eye. Ratchet's optics widened, a foul curse leaving him as he turned both pistols on the creature and opened fire. His shots went wild, however, as a good blast from one of Karinth's crew took him in the back. Seizing the moment, the Ch'danth turned and bounded off, attempting to choke down its catch, the shielded Tarthan becoming lodged in its throat. 

"JARAXIS!" Ratchet's cry cut through the noise around him as he got to his feet to give chase, pausing only when he realized his absence would leave his patients in peril. Inner turmoil seized him as he watched the enemy escaping. He could almost hear the terrified screams of his companion echoing inside his mind. 

"Ratchet, hold your position!" Prowl commanded before knocking Fen and his mech backwards. 

"But-" 

"Hold your position!" the strategist shouted back, tone harsh before glancing to the engineer as he dodged another burst of flame. "Wheeljack, go! GO!" 

Pausing only to flip one of his daggers into the chest of Grawl's ride in order to slow the brainless shell down a bit, Wheeljack turned and took three long strides before transforming and tearing after the escaping Ch'danth. Ratchet watched with relays on edge as his friend gave chase, recklessly circumnavigating the mounds of dead bodies on the field. A near miss to his head brought his attention back to the situation at hand, however. Karinth had ordered a second charge, the crewmen steering their massive transport on a collision course with Jaraxis' craft. First that underhanded slime had allowed Jaraxis to be attacked and now his actions were endangering Windcharger and Brawn, a pair of sentient beings who, at the moment, could do nothing to defend themselves. The anger in the medic quickly turned to outright hatred. 

"KARINTH!" The snarl left Ratchet as he charged forward, optics narrowed in rage. 

He collided squarely with the hover transport, his pistols forgotten as he seized both sides of the hull and threw his weight to one side, causing the entire craft to tilt off center. Ratchet's joints groaned in protest, but anger drowned out the pain, the bot's feet firmly planted and his legs fighting the forward motion for the vehicle. Karinth screamed for retaliation, those crewmen not taken off their feet struggling to get their rifles up to take aim. Realizing he only had a few more nanokliks before laser fire descended on his head and shoulders, Ratchet activated the melee weapon attached to his right arm, a thin, blue blade of pure energy extending from the silvery gauntlet. Letting the hover transport force him off to one side, the mech turned and ran the blade through the hull, nearly severing the front portion completely. The sudden offset put a spin on the transport, causing it to knock Ratchet aside before fishtailing out of control and dipping to slam into the ground at an angle. 

The crash distracted Grawl and Fen, both of whom had been trying to fight off Prowl. In their moment of weakness, the tactician chose to strike, slashing through Grawl's mech's knee at the joint before sweeping about and attacking Fen's ride. The controlled bot stumbled as the blade struck true, taking its weapon arm off at the shoulder. Bringing the sword tip level with the Rider, Prowl narrowed his optics. 

"Leave. NOW." 

Fen ordered his escort back, telling it to pick up Grawl, who had nearly fallen from his downed mech's shoulder. "I don't know what in Tarth's name you are, robot, but this isn't over! I refuse to be insulted by a lump of spare parts!" 

Prowl said nothing, merely watching as Grawl was hastily collected before both mech and Riders turned tail and retreated back the way they'd come. As soon as the lot had vanished from sight, the strategist glanced back to where the enemy hover transport had gone down. Several crewmen lay scattered over the ground, dazed but alive. Ratchet was kneeling nearby, a look of disgust on his faceplate as he held the tip of his blade less than a Tarthan body length from a cowering Karinth. 

"You...you can't hurt a Tarthan!" the junker managed to gasp out, his one good eye wide with horror. "Your-your programming-" 

"Is Cybertronian!" the medic interrupted with a vicious snarl, the blade twitching closer, yet. "You lying, dishonest, abusive sack of slag, I ought to cut your tongue out! And if anything's happened to Jaraxis..." 

Prowl arched an optic ridge. Infamous for threats he never carried out back at the Ark, Ratchet was viewed by many as a bit of a softy who never meant even half of the insults he often threw. But the situation had turned extreme and it looked like the medic was starting to crack under the pressure. In the distance, the altered Datsun could just barely pick up on the sound of an engine roaring as the chase continued. 

The Ch'danth had since managed to clear its throat, the bulge vanishing, but Wheeljack attempted to hang onto an optimistic outlook, despite the desperation of the situation. Lesser Autobots might have given up at that point, but not the engineer. He knew what would become of Ratchet's state of mind if they lost Jaraxis. Even if there was only a slight glimmer of hope left for the Tarthan, it was enough reason to continue. As it was, the only reason the beast had managed to evade Wheeljack thus far was due to its ability to take tighter turns, claws giving it the purchase it needed to turn at an instant, whereas 'Jack's air brakes could not guarantee such "turn on a dime" maneuverability. 

As 'Jack drew closer to the target, the creature managed to lope haphazardly up a pile of rock and shale before lunging from the top-most point, wings spreading. Although damaged by fire, the membranes spanning between the fifth and sixth limb "fingers" had healed enough to catch an updraft, sending the Ch'danth up and out over the field. 

Shifting into overdrive, Wheeljack closed the gap to the rocks and sped up them, launching skyward. The modified Lancia executed a double barrel roll as he converted to robot mode, the jets built into his arms firing as he spiraled towards the escaping Ch'danth. The creature roared in pain as the mech collided with it, the engineer quickly wrapping one arm around its throat. Spinning out of control, the pair twisted as they fell earthward, Wheeljack barely able to turn his quarry enough so that it wouldn't land midsection first. 

The impact jarred both of them, the Ch'danth's wings snapping backwards and Wheeljack's chest armor cracking. They writhed against one another for a moment, the Ch'danth yearning to get free and fighting the stubborn mech, who refused to budge or let go. Free hand drawing his remaining dagger, Wheeljack lanced the side of his adversary's gullet before pulling the blade down and across its exposed belly. Gore spilled over the engineer's legs as shrieks of pain filled his audio receptors, but all were momentarily ignored as he plunged his hand into the mess and dug out a fluid covered, spherical object. Already the crackling energy of the field was burning away the blood and other bodily fluids covering it. 

"Jaraxis, turn off the field! Turn it off!" Wheeljack ordered. 

Suddenly, the sphere collapsed, allowing the remaining fluids to drop into the mech's hand and slide between his fingers to the ground below. The Tarthan lay in his palm, gasping for air, eyes wide and staring. Kicking the body of the Ch'danth away, Wheeljack got his feet and transformed in the blink of an eye, sliding Jaraxis into his cab as he did so. Engine revving, he tore out, rushing back towards his companions. 

Ratchet abandoned Karinth as Wheeljack pulled up and transformed, holding his cargo out to the medic, who took Jaraxis into his hands with a look of obvious relief on his faceplate. 

"Will he be alright?" Prowl questioned from where he stood beside the downed transport. 

"I think so," came Wheeljack's weary reply as he attempted to shake the blood from his hands and fight off the sickened feeling in the pit of his core. "He's just shaken." 

"Good." Prowl then glanced down at Karinth before digging the tip of his sword into the ground right in front of the terrified dealer. "As Autobots, we believe in respecting all sentient life, junker. But you really tested our limits and values with this little stunt of yours. Pull something like this again and I'm not sure I can guarantee anything, do you understand? We never want to see you anywhere near one of us or our companions again." 

"I-I understand! Completely, t-totally!" Karinth gasped as he backed away. "Never again, I swear it! You...you have my word!" 

Glancing back at the other two mechs, Prowl nodded. "Let's get out of here." 

xxxxxxx

The trip home was mercifully uneventful. After securing Brawn to the transport, Prowl had Ratchet transform so that he and Wheeljack could load Windcharger in back and set Jaraxis up front. Using some of the parts from Karinth's downed craft, Wheeljack managed to create a hitch between the medic and the transport. Of the three bots, Ratchet's alternate mode possessed the most torque and therefore was the logical choice in hauling back the vehicle Jaraxis could not operate in his current state. The strategist then led the way home, Wheeljack bringing up the rear. 

As to what happened to Karinth and his crew, they couldn't be sure. A distress signal was sent out shortly before they departed and as frightened as many of them appeared, the Tarthan junkers seemed confident that they would soon receive aid from their allies in the city. Or at least that's what Prowl gathered from the audacious insults they shouted while telling the Autobots to stay away and that they didn't need the help. 

The suns were just beginning to set as the Autobots returned, their first priority getting their cargo safely secured on home turf. This meant turning Jaraxis over to N'Chala, who nearly had a conniption over the state of her grandson, as well as removing the EMP shells from Brawn and Windcharger before settling them into a pair of recharge berths. Exhausted as they were, Wheeljack and Ratchet simply made sure their fallen comrades would be safe during the moon before turning to basic "patch and weld" repairs on one another and Prowl. Palgren checked in over the view comm as the engineer finished up on Prowl, pleased to hear that overall, the run had been a success. With his fellow Autobots preoccupied, Ratchet wandered outside and found an old metal crate to sit on, joints aching and tired mind beginning to wander. He hadn't been outside long when footfalls sounded behind him, a dark grey hand coming to rest on his shoulder. 

"Hey." 

Ratchet didn't need to glance behind him to know who was there, but did so anyway out of respect for his long time friend. "Hey, yourself." 

Wheeljack moved around the crate before taking a seat on the ground nearby, elbow joints propped up on his knees. Neither said anything for several nanokliks, half enjoying the silence after having to listen to the shrieking of Ch'danth and the blasts of live ammunition for the better part of the previous suns. 

"Prowl still chatting with Palgren?" Ratched finally inquired, breaking the silence, his optics still focused on the horizon beyond Rasha's barrier. 

"Yep." 

"Any information on where we might find Ironhide?" 

"Not yet." 

Silence settled over them for a long moment before Wheeljack spoke up again, using an old saying he'd picked up on Earth several years back. "So...penny for your thoughts?" 

Ratchet sighed softly, not answering immediately. "Just thinking about the 'big question', I guess, if you know what I mean." 

"Actually, I don't. Mind elaborating?" 

"THE question. The one we'll all have to answer sooner or later about whether or not we'll go back to serving in the war if we manage to make it home." 

Wheeljack nodded sagely. "Ah, THAT question. Yeah, been trying to find an answer for that one, myself." 

"And?" 

"And I really don't know. I don't like the idea of leaving friends in the ranks who might need the help, but I'm also pretty tired of all this fighting. Used to be a challenge, trying to come up with new tricks and inventions to help out, but lately I'm not so sure it all does anyone any real good." 

"How so?" 

"Eh, you know. Half my inventions end up exploding in test phase. Red Alert used to blow a gasket every time that happened, always berating me for not being more careful. By Primus, you yourself used to get after me about it. And I feel bad for not making the diameter on that personal force field larger. I really shoulda thought about that more carefully." 

The medic allowed himself a small chuckle. "I only got after you because a failed test might translate to having to reattach your arm after an explosion took it off. But I don't see why you're considering this now, 'Jack. It didn't bother you before and almost everything you came up with over the last few days worked fine, today. Besides, without that force field, Jaraxis wouldn't have lived. And you managed to get him back. I don't blame you for a thing." 

"I suppose." Wheeljack shifted his weight slightly before turning to look at his companion. "So what about you and that 'big question', huh?" 

Ratchet shrugged. "I don't know. S'why I've been thinking about it so much. Guess I'm in the same boat as you, not sure which would be better; staying or leaving. I'd like to retire to a nice hidey hole on Cybertron, but last I checked, the Decepticons owned all the prime spots. Staying on Earth might be nice, but away from outposts like Autobot City. I worry about not being there, not being able to help Perceptor, Hoist, Grapple and First Aid, but after all this, I'm not sure I can go back to my old duties. It's tough enough dealing with situations like Brawn and Windcharger and I feel like those nine million years on my shoulders are really startin' to catch up with me, to boot." 

"Ever thought about...just not goin' back? Even if we had the chance?" 

"Once or twice, but this isn't home. I guess given time it COULD be, just like Earth got to feeling more like home, but I feel like I need to at least find out what happened while we were gone. Part of me is worried we'll head back and find out that attack on the city resulted in an overall win for the Decepticons. And if that's the case...well...I really don't know what I'll do." 

"Definitely in the same boat, you and I," Wheeljack admitted. "I feel like I just gotta know, but...eh. In a lot of ways, I'm afraid to." 

"...I also don't know what to think after what happened today." 

"What'd ya mean?" 

Ratchet didn't say right off, taking a moment to collect his thoughts and find the words. The subject was not one he was particularly comfortable discussing. But if any mech would understand, it would be Wheeljack. "I very nearly lost it and that's not a feeling I care for. You know me, 'Jack. You know I try to keep myself distanced much as I can so that life threatening injuries don't drive me up walls. I can't afford to get emotional. But... It's just not working, anymore. Knowing we all died and then watching as living things here get killed all the time, and not just by the common enemy. But by each other. It's the same thing with our kind, with the humans, whether it's war or not. Despite my best efforts...I'm too attached." 

The engineer would have offered a small, knowing smile if he'd been able. "Ratch, everyone knows you're not the tough guy you make yourself out to be. And I think you know we know. I realize the false front in itself isn't the reason you put on the mean, tough bot act, but still... Ain't nothin' wrong with showin' you care. And don't blame yourself for what happened with Jaraxis. Only so much you can do an' I doubt the little guy blames you, anyway." 

Ratchet nodded, suddenly feeling numb. When he failed to respond otherwise, 'Jack continued. 

"Yer a good doctor because you care, buddy. And I know you miss First Aid like no one's business, despite how much you used to get after him and bully him around the med bay. I've seen the way you treat Jaraxis and I know you think of the kid like a new student of yours, and there's absolutely nothin' wrong with that. And after all you've said and been through, if retirement is really on yer mind, maybe now's the time to let that false front drop a little. If our deaths showed us anything, it's that we can't take a thing for granted. Never know when the end will come and there's not always a chance to say goodbye or make apologies." 

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right, 'Jack. Maybe it is time I stopped trying to pretend like things don't or can't effect me. Because they do. Obviously. And I think that answered the question for me, too." 

"Yeah?" 

The medic nodded, glancing at his companion. "So long as things haven't gone to the Pit when we get home, I'm retiring. No more fighting for me. And 'Jack?" 

"Hrm?" 

"...thanks. I owe you big time for today." 

Wheeljack shrugged. "Hey, what're friends for, huh? And maybe I'll call it quits with you when we get back, ya never know. Maybe we could go into business for ourselves, so to speak." 

"Sounds like a plan." 

Prowl's voice made both mechs startle slightly as he spoke before entering their midst. Ratchet cursed, causing Wheeljack to laugh. Prime's former second in command chuckled a bit, as well, before taking a seat on the ground across from the medic. 

"Business day closed, Prowl?" Wheeljack asked in good natured tones. 

"Yes. Palgren informed me it may be another few suns before he can get back to us again, which I'm sure is more than fine with the both of you, seeing as how Brawn and Windcharger will provide more than enough of a distraction." 

"Ya got that right!" Ratchet growled out. "Gonna be a long couple of suns. May as well give them back their alternate modes while we're at it, too." 

"Do you think Jaraxis will be up to Speaking, though?" Wheeljack asked, tone laced with concern. "Today's mishap really took it out of him and for as much as Speaking drains him..." 

The medic of the group shook his head a bit. "I wish he didn't have that responsibility on his shoulders. As it is, I think the next time we go out, we oughta leave him here where it's safe." 

"Agreed," Prowl said. "And not just because he is our Speaker and it is to our advantage to keep him safe. Despite his desire to aid us, he just isn't strong enough. We can't let him get hurt or worse... Think you can have a talk with him about that eventually, Ratchet?" 

The bot in question sighed heavily before responding with a nod. "He ain't gonna like it, but I'll see what I can do." 

xxxxxxx

Fen slammed the receiver on the regular comm down in a fit of rage. Still covered in dust and sweat from their earlier excursion, the younger Mech Rider glared at his companion, who sat in a chair nearby, wiping his face with a towel. The pair had only recently made it back to the city, heading straight to their private barracks as quickly and quietly as possible. Both of them would be in a good amount of trouble for not only losing Grawl's ride, but also for taking a side mercenary job without permission from their superior. Karinth was an old business partner and had offered them a considerable sum for their services, but the run had been a bust and they'd lost far more than they'd gained. The only fortunate part of the situation aside from escaping with their lives was that the unmanned robots they'd had with them were Karinth's and not military owned. 

"Word's not good, is it?" Grawl asked, glancing up with a quirked brow. 

"Karinth's backing out on us!" Fen exclaimed, a bit of spittle flecking his black lips. "Not only is he not sure if your mech can be recovered before another junker finds it, but he's refusing to help us get back at Jaraxis and his crazy rogues!" 

The elder Tarthan flattened his ears back against his head. "I thought our boys were going to hire experienced scavengers to pick up and bring back what mechs were left behind in the first place so they wouldn't leave military ownership this time." 

"Doesn't mean they'll get there ahead of those junkers working under their own contracts!" 

A tense silence fell over the pair a moment before Grawl spoke again. "So what do you propose we do about Jaraxis?" 

Fen snatched up a stack of reports from the nearby desk and thumbed through them quickly. "We're gonna kill two Ch'danth with one shot, that's what we're gonna do!" 

"Oh? How's that?" 

"You remember that lunatic Rider that almost got ejected from the military some suns ago because some thought he was out of his mind?" 

"The one that's been pulling self-imposed overtime to prove himself again and so caught us sneaking out into town a few moons ago, which then earned us two suns worth of the worst patrol and janitorial duties possible?" 

"That's the one." Fen picked up the receiver again, a devilish glint in his eyes. "And crazy, justice loving freak that he is, I seriously doubt old Lithos will be able to resist the chance to continue 'proving his worth' when word gets to him there's been a load of escaped military rogues discovered, holed up at the Ferrin junkyard!"

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_Next chapter... Breach of security!_

**"Bonus" illustration - Junker Prowl with energy sword and Mira - users. oco. net/aestraya/junker-prowl-inks.jpg (copy and paste without spaces)**


	13. Chapter 12: Waking Nightmare

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: I ended up cranking this chapter out pretty quickly, thanks to a couple of days off and cooperation from the "headcharacters." Hopefully the next chater will be done in a few days, but if it isn't, chalk it up to an ugly work schedule. This next week promises to be difficult. I'd also like to give MAJOR props to Uftaki, who's been tolerating my babbling on AIM as of late and has actually helped me brainstorm a bit on what a sequel might be like. (Perhaps a bit early to be thinking on it, but at this point in time, this fic is actually about two thirds of the way done.)

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 12: "Waking Nightmare"_

Jaraxis lay back in the tub of hot water he'd drawn earlier, staring up at the ceiling of the washroom as the first rays of light crept over the horizon outside and through the room window. Arms hooked over the sides of the tub and feet propped up on the lip, he listened to the sound of his grandmother puttering about in the main room as she made the suns up meal. Outside, a resounding crash and a loud curse indicated that the bots were out of their chargers and already hard at work.

The Tarthan sighed deeply, eyes closing as he recounted the events of the previous suns. Even after an initial bath upon being brought home, he'd still felt filthy, fur saturated with Ch'danth blood and dirt. How Ratchet could stand to have that kind of mess covering his interior on the way back, the mechanic still wasn't sure. The whole incident had not only been terrifying, but embarrassing, as well. The idea pained him, but perhaps it was best if he didn't try to follow the guys out, anymore. Runs beyond the barriers weren't just for scrap, now, and that made such missions all the more dangerous.

Additionally, Jaraxis worried about the added strain he put on the Autobots, particularly Ratchet. They had better things to do than kitsit him in the middle of a fire fight. And for as decent a mechanic as 'Rax was by his people's standards, his knowledge was nothing compared to that of a seasoned Cybertronian medic.

A sudden twinge of pain hit the Tarthan, concentrating in his temples and the center of his forehead. Opening his eyes, Jaraxis began to pull himself upright to try and get out of the tub, but halted in horror when he realized he couldn't see. Darkness covered his vision, invading from every angle devouring every bit of light. Swallowing hard, Jaraxis leaned back again, his heart pounding away so loud he was sure he could hear its frantic echo with his ears. Shutting his Sun Eyes, he suddenly wondered what would happen if he opened his third eye. If he lost his regular vision, would he be able to use his Moon Eye the way other Tarthans did? For normal night vision? The idea seemed absurd, the change too abrupt and yet... Slowly, he opened the eye set in his forehead...and gasped, horror filling him.

He found himself witnessing a vision, a view of Rasha while a massive, shimmering creature destroyed it. As high as the tallest buildings, it rampaged through the streets, crushing Tarthans and vehicles alike beneath massive feet. It had the hideous elongated face of a Ch'danth, and an insatiable hunger for flesh, metal and power. Jaraxis looked around frantically for the military, for the Autobots, but neither group could be seen. Unopposed, the creature headed for the generator and power well tower at the center of the city, intending to rip into it, to destroy the one thing keeping the Ch'danth from overrunning Rasha, entirely. It was then one word reached Jaraxis through his waking nightmare: _"Locke."_

Then it was over, the pain receding and the vision blinking out of existence, his Moon Eye returned to its constant view of darkness. Opening his Sun Eyes, the mechanic found his regular sight returned. Pulling himself upright, Jaraxis climbed shakily from the tub and got both feet planted on the floor, nearly collapsing when he attempted to put his full weight upon his legs. Water dripped from his soaked fur as he fell to a crouch, breathing hard.

"How soon?" he gasped, hoping an answer would come. "How much time...do we have...?"

No answer came. If L'Ranna had connected with him, she had left him with the vision and nothing more.

Forcing himself to stand again, Jaraxis pulled a towel around himself and staggered out of the washroom, heading for his own small bedroom. He dried himself enough to get garments onto this lower half, then fell onto his mattress again, eyes closing.

He would have to speak to the others later. Warn them. But at the moment, he barely had the strength to stand, again.

Hatred for L'Ranna was the last thing he felt before falling into a dreamless slumber.

xxxxxxx

Prowl sat at one of the unused work benches, listening and watching while Mira read to him from a rather large tome her father had given her that morning. With Ratchet and Wheeljack preoccupied with repairing Brawn and Windcharger, the strategist had gone to the Jenn residence shortly after getting off the split recharger hook-up to pick up Mira for a suns long set of lessons to make up for their recent lack of time, together. Outside, the suns were beginning to set, signaling final break time for everyone in the workshop.

Wheeljack sighed and laid down the welder he'd been using on Windcharger's open chassis. "Well, that about does it for major repairs on this ol' boy, I think. How's Brawn coming along, Ratch?"

"Got a little ways to go, yet," came the grumble of a reply, the medic not looking up from his work at the other table. "Seems like even as an 'obedient military bot', Brawn's still managed to pick up his usual amount of unnecessary damages!"

"Ah, you can chew him out once he's awake and aware," 'Jack chuckled. Glancing towards teacher and student, the engineer addressed them with a smile in his voice. "And how goes the lesson, little lady? Learn a lot, today?"

Mira stopped reading out loud and looked up with a shy smile. "Yes, Master Wheeljack, but I still don't know all the words in this book, yet."

"She's getting there," Prowl said with a bit of a smile, himself. "Mira is a quick and eager learner. She picks up on things quicker than some of our own in some cases, even."

'Jack arched an optic ridge. "Oh?"

The tactician nodded towards Brawn's prone form and Wheeljack chuckled.

"Alright, Mira, it's time I got you home, again," Prowl told the young kit as he stood up. "Don't want your parents to get worried."

"Can't I stay over? Just one night? I want to hear more stories about Earth and Cybertron," she responded, looking up at the Autobots with wide eyes.

"Don't think yer father would want ya sleepin' out here with us, little lady, seein' as how it's kinda messy and Ratch over there has been having to hold back on the language all day. Gotta give the guy a chance to cut loose sometime, ya know!" Wheeljack said, earning an irritated grunt from the medic in return. "But hey, how's about you get a story on the way home, eh? I'll drive back with you and Prowl and we'll think up a good one."

"Need to get out and about a little?" Prowl questioned while Mira squealed in delight.

"Yep. Although I woulda preferred 'get out and spin your wheels', but we haven't got 'em, anymore. By the Matrix, I miss my old Earth mode. Tires huggin' the road at well over one hundred miles per hour..."

Prowl smirked. "I actually miss that, myself. Ratchet, are you coming along, as well?"

The medic waved him off, finally glancing up from his work, arc welder in hand. "You two go ahead. I need to finish this before shutting down for the night. And 'Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Behave yourself. I know that look in your optics, that faraway one that's got you haulin' over asphalt and dirt at an engine jarring speed! So keep it in check and don't you dare come back in need of repairs after drifting or skidding into something, ya hear?"

Wheeljack chuckled, one hand over his chest. "Ah, you wound me to the laser core, old buddy! I wouldn't dream of doubling your work at this time of night! C'mon, Prowl. Let's get the little one home."

The black and white collected his student, allowing Mira to climb into one of his hands before he and Wheeljack departed. Ratchet sighed before going back to work, weary optics examining a crack in Brawn's internal housing.

xxxxxxx

Sometime later, long after the moon had cleared the horizon, Ratchet shut Brawn's chassis armor covering and stepped back, breathing a sigh of tired relief. His moment of minor triumph vanished, however, when he realized how late it had gotten. Prowl and Wheeljack had yet to return. Growling to himself, the medic moved outside into the cool air, optics narrowed as he glanced towards the scrap yard entrance. If it were just Wheeljack out and about, he would have just chalked it up to the modified Lancia doing a little joyriding. However, Prowl was with him, and Ratchet honestly couldn't imagine the stoic strategist out and running about for the slag of it.

"Where are those two?" he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "Leave it to Wheeljack to talk Prowl into joyr--"

He was cut off as an interesting sensation hit him, causing his optics to widen slightly. Glancing around, the medic peered across the dimly lit grounds. It felt as though a missing Autobot was suddenly nearby, but his other sensors detected absolutely nothing. What the slag? Ratchet stole a glance over one shoulder, but saw nothing near the open workshop entrance.

He turned back. "Iron--By PRIMUS!"

In the blink of an eye, the other mech was upon him, lunging up from behind a pile of junk and hurtling forward, face contorted into a hideous snarl. Before Ratchet could get completely out of the way, the invader slammed what looked like a metal nightstick into his side. The sheer brute strength behind the blow sent the medic sailing backwards and through the open doors, only to land heavily upon the floor with a loud, metallic clattering. He hardly had time to sit upright when Ironhide was after him a second time, pounding through the entrance and jumping to attack.

"Ironhide, stop!" Ratchet exclaimed, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head as he rolled aside, Ironhide's fist slamming into the floor where he'd been only a split nanoklik before. "You've got to wake up!"

The only response was a low growl as Ironhide attempted to crush his adversary beneath one heavy foot. Ratchet rolled again and managed to move up into a low crouch, only to have the mech's other foot swing full force into his chest. Striking the near wall back first, he slid down into a pile of spare parts in a daze.

"Iron...Ironhide..."

No longer the red and gray bot Ratchet knew from their past lives, the black and silver military mech seized the medic by the throat and lifted him clear of the floor, pinning him to the wall.

xxxxxxx

Jaraxis' eyes snapped open in the dark as the sound of metal on metal reached him. Sitting up so suddenly it caused a sharp pain at the back of his head, he turned and peered out the nearby window to see a light still on in the workshop and the doors wide open. The Tarthan shook his head to clear the haze in his brain, realizing that after his grandmother had forced him awake earlier to eat something, he'd managed to sleep past moonrise. Another crash sounded outside and Jaraxis slid out of bed, still only wearing a pair of pants as he made his way out of the room and down to the front door of the house.

Running along as best he was able without stumbling, the mechanic headed straight for the workshop, worry beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders. As he stopped short of the doors and managed a glance around the edge to the building interior, he was forced to stifle a gasp of shock. A foreign mech had Ratchet pinned to the wall, the assailant's strength so great he was suspending the medic like a sack of rags. Jaraxis could hear the trapped bot choking, both his hands locked over his captor's forearm. Wheeljack and Prowl were nowhere in sight.

A feeling of utter helplessness struck Jaraxis, nausea swelling in his belly. If something wasn't done fast, Ratchet would end up dead, yet again. But what could one Tarthan do against a full sized military mech? The mechanic's mind whirled as he tried to come up with a plan. He had to do something! But what?

Suddenly, an idea hit him. Insane as it was, it was probably their only hope in such a tight situation. Edging silently around the door, Jaraxis crept into the workshop as quietly as he was able and moved along the wall to the foreign bot's back. As he entered, Ratchet managed to make eye contact with him and began to struggle harder. Whether this was meant to distract their foe further or an actual attempt to break free out of worry for the Tarthan, 'Rax couldn't be sure. But whatever the motivation behind the move, it was keeping big, black and silver occupied.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jaraxis reached the two neighboring tables upon which Brawn and Windcharger lay. Carefully, quietly, he began to scale the bench between the two, only to nearly have his head taken off by a rifle bullet. Ducking low, Jaraxis glanced back towards the entrance to see a grizzled old soldier skulking in, left eye covered by a patch and right leg dragging in a limp. He raised his weapon and fired again, this time just missing one of Jaraxis' ears.

Nearby, Ratchet cried out in anger and managed to get one foot up, kicking his attacker at an angle in the torso. The bot stumbled back, releasing his captive and allowing the medic to jump him, the pair crashing to the floor. The Tarthan soldier shouted something obscene and hurried to get clear as the two mechs rolled about, grappling with one another.

Seizing the moment, Jaraxis hunched down and shut his eyes, extending one hand towards each fallen Autobot.

"L'Ranna...Speak through me, please!"

His Moon Eye opened, the power of L'Ranna surging through him. For the fourth time, memories of a war he did not know poured through his mind, images of death and destruction flashing by at a tremendous rate. Brawn's final moments of pain on board the shuttle, Windcharger's last view of the world before all went dark, the sounds of battle raging distantly in the background... And, as the command to rise and live was issued, Jaraxis collapsed backwards, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his Moon Eye snapped shut.

Ratchet looked up into the crimson optic lens cover looming over him, the face of his old comrade barely recognizable as the stronger mech pinned him to the floor and shoved one elbow into his exposed neck. Struggling did nothing; Ironhide was too powerful and in his frustration, was not holding much of anything back. The world was starting to go out of focus for the medic when something slammed into Ironhide from the side, hurling him off and out of the way. Coughing violently, Ratchet managed to sit up just as Brawn leveled Ironhide with a single punch, the silver and black form landing against a bench and snapping it in half. The slate gray body of Windcharger landed on Ironhide next, wrestling with him as the pair tumbled across the ground. Staggering to his feet, Ratchet hurried towards the weapons rack on the back wall, taking down Prowl's rifle. As he turned and slid the needed clip into place, Ironhide managed to get his hands on 'Charger, hurling him up, back and nearly out the open doors.

"Brawn, get back!" Ratchet ordered as he brought the rifle around.

The tough minibot, who had been about to pounce again, shuffled backward in a hurry. Ratchet took quick aim and fired, the EMP bullet ripping into Ironhide's lower left leg. In an instant, he was down, hitting the floor with a curse. Keeping the rifle trained on the shuddering form, Ratchet edged forward.

"Hey, you okay, doc?" Brawn questioned, although he appeared rather dazed, himself.

"Wheeljack'll have to take the dents outta my neck and do something about this Devastator sized impact point in my side, but I'll live. Windcharger, are you still online?" the medic responded gruffly.

"Yeah..." The other minibot sat up by the doors, one hand on his head. "I wish someone would explain what the Pit is going on here, though!"

"You cheatin' piece of rotten Ch'danth fodder! When I get my hands on you, I'll take that rifle an' shove it straight down yer intake chute!"

Ratchet glanced at the fallen mech, an optic ridge quirked at the sound of Tarthan being spoken with a growled out Southern accent. "Nice to know you've maintained your full charming range of vocabulary, Ironhide. Really. But I'm sure you'll change your tune, soon enough."

"Ironhide! THAT'S Ironhide?" Brawn exclaimed, staring down at their newly acquired captive. "You aren't the only one who's gonna need an explanation, Windcharger. The slag is going on?"

"Nothing you need to worry about!"

All three bots glanced towards the tables to see the Tarthan soldier there, one hand gripping a half conscious Jaraxis by the ponytail, the other holding a loaded firearm to the mechanic's temple. The one-eyed Tarthan regarded the lot with a lashing tail. "Ain't no one gonna hurt Arc any further! So drop that rifle, Rogue, unless you want me to put a bullet in this kit's head!"

The rifle clattered to the floor as Ratchet released it without a second thought, although his expression betrayed his rage. "Harm a hair on him, soldier, and I'll have to ignore my personal morals in regards to killing your kind!"

"Of all the dirty, underhanded..." Brawn snarled from nearby, hands clenched into fists. "You think you can get away with this!"

"Lithos, no!" Ironhide's voice surprised them all, the black and silver bot pushing himself up on two hands. "Ya can't trade the kit's life for mine. You know that! Much as I don't like it or these cutthroats, just let 'im go and leave me here. Get outta here while ya can!"

"I'm not leaving you here!" the soldier shouted back, expression determined. Looking to Ratchet and Brawn, he laid his ears back. "You lot, back away from Arc! NOW!"

Ratchet scowled. "What? You think he can just walk out? I hit him with a limited electro-magnetic pulse. His legs are useless for the time being."

At that moment, Jaraxis' hand came to rest on the other Tarthan's near leg, his Moon Eye suddenly open.

_"How dare you threaten my servant!"_

Lithos screamed as images invaded his mind, cutting off his vision and causing him to release his captive. Collapsing on the bench beside Jaraxis, he writhed for a moment and then went limp, ears drooping. Jaraxis, in the meantime, let go of the soldier and fell back, himself, all three eyes tightly shut.

The expression on Ironhide's face became horror-stricken. "Lithos? LITHOS! NO!"

Ratchet hurried to the bench and knelt down to examine the pair of fallen Tarthans. He took a moment to scan them both before glancing back at the others. "Unconscious. Both of 'em, thanks to L'Ranna, it seems. They'll be fine once they've had a chance to rest and recover, I think."

"Great," Windcharger muttered as he got up and moved up alongside Brawn. "What'd we do in the meantime? Especially concerning ol' Ironhide, here?"

Footsteps sounded from outside, following the sound of a pair of engines winding down. A nanoklik later, Prowl and Wheeljack appeared in the doorway, optics widening as they took in the mess before them.

"By the Matrix! What the slag happened, here?" 'Jack exclaimed.

"Our last Autobot came to us, an' I'm still not sure if that's a blessing or a curse," the medic responded with a frown. "And, as you can see, Jaraxis woke up our boys, here. Where the slag have you two been, anyway?"

"My fault, Ratchet," Prowl admitted with a somewhat guilty look. "Palgren wanted to discuss a few things and I obliged him. Our conversation took a bit longer than I thought it would."

Windcharger, however, was positively ecstatic. "Wheeljack! Prowl! Never thought I'd see you two again!"

"Fabulous," Brawn sighed, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "So is this it? And can we get the whole story, already?"

"As soon as we get this mess cleaned up," Prowl said as he stepped inside. He noted the prone forms of Jaraxis and the soldier with a frown. "I won't ask. Rather, Wheeljack, can you get those two to N'Chala? I hate to ask her to look after a stranger, but we don't have much choice at the moment. Brawn, Windcharger, if you can start getting this mess picked up? I'll help Ratchet get Ironhide onto a work table."

Ratchet folded his arms across his chest. "That's if he'll let us. What of it, 'Arc'? You going to put up a fight, or are you going to behave and let us help you?"

"Just promise you won't hurt Lithos," came the growl of a reply. "But keep in mind that just because yer helpin' us doesn't mean I necessarily trust ya!"

"Doesn't matter what his name is, now, that's still ol' Ironhide in there," Brawn commented with a smirk.

"Alright, enough chatter," Prowl cut in, tone stern. "It's late and we have work to do. And Ratchet? Wheeljack? I don't care how much of a mess things are. Both of you are hitting the rechargers before too long, understand? I'll not have the medical and engineering brains of this group down and out."

As Ratchet helped Ironhide to his feet, grunting under the weight of the other mech, the silver and black caught the medic's optic.

"An' I suppose sooner or later I'll find out why you crazy lot keepin' callin' me by that weird name?"

"Soon enough," Ratchet promised, a small smile managing to tug at the corners of his mouth. "But for now, it's as Prowl says, and while he's not Prime, he's the closest we've got to one. Now come on, lead foot, time to see about that hole I put in your leg."

* * *

_Next chapter... The Chosen Six._


	14. Chapter 13: Where You Belong

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 13: "Where You Belong"_

Prowl may not have been Prime, but he still managed to get the rag tag group through the moon. N'Chala was not pleased with the state her grandson was in, nor was she too keen on taking in a complete stranger, but with a little sweet talking, Wheeljack managed to convince her to take on the job. Wisely, nothing was said to N'Chala about the threats Lithos had made against Jaraxis. Prowl, worried about the situation overall, contacted Palgren and convinced him to come spend the night at the house in order to offer support where needed. In the meantime, Brawn and Windcharger got the workshop back in order while Ratchet removed the EMP bullet from Ironhide and patched the hole.

Halfway through the night, Ratchet and Wheeljack finally collapsed into two of the recharge berths for some well deserved rest. Ironhide, despite some protests, was set into another berth and forced into temporary stasis. Prowl declared he wasn't going to bother, seeing as how they only had one more free berth and spare split hook-up at that point and Brawn and Windcharger needed to be briefed on what was going on. The two mini-bots were rested from all their time spent in stasis and thus spent the rest of the moon sitting outside with a weary Prowl, going over events and getting their various questions answered.

Shortly after suns rise, Palgren visited the workshop, arriving just as Ratchet and Wheeljack climbed out of their berths. The exhausted Tarthan called a brief meeting, gathering the active mechs around the bench he chose as a podium.

"My deepest apologies to you all," he began. "Even though I had no way of knowing this might happen, I still feel responsible."

Ratchet frowned. "Come again, now?"

"Lithos is one of my few remaining military contacts; he is actually partially responsible for the gathered data that helped us locate Brawn and Windcharger. But in taking the data from him, I couldn't tell him what it was for. And since he located the files on searches related only to Prowl's identification number, I don't think he noticed that Ironhide's number was also present. I simply told him, as well as my other contacts, to transmit the matching and related files based on the cover story that I needed Prowl's maintenance and ownership history records."

"What happened last night isn't your fault, Palgren," Prowl assured him. "But do you think he ended up here based on that data? His motives aren't clear in the least."

Their liaison shook his head. "Lithos woke up a short time ago, giving me a chance to speak with him. Turns out he was merely given some rather suspect information about some rogue mechs hiding here. The old fellow isn't as respected as he once was. and due to his questionable relationship with Ironhide was nearly discharged from the military. As you know, Tarthan robots are obedient servants. Lithos' tendency to treat Ironhide as something more damaged his reputation. I think he saw this 'search and destroy' mission as a possible means to redemption."

"So he was just tryin' to save his job and protect Ironhide at the same time," Wheeljack said thoughtfully. "Guess we can't be too angry with the old guy."

"Huh, speak for yourself, 'Jack!" Brawn grumped.

"Oh, lighten up," Windcharger said as he cuffed the other mini-bot on the shoulder. "'Least all this saved us the trouble of having to find Ironhide on our own."

Palgren nodded. "True enough. And now he knows a bit more about the circumstances, even though everything is difficult to understand right off. Having been in his situation recently, I can't say I blame him. But Lithos isn't a threat anymore. If anything, he's glad to know there are more mechs like Ironhide. I truly do believe he's unintentionally distanced himself from his own kind by helping Ironhide. At this point, the old soldier may need all the help he can get."

"So we can trust him to share space with N'Chala and Jaraxis for the time being?" Prowl questioned.

"I would say so. Whatever Jaraxis did seems to have sobered him up," Palgren replied.

The tactician nodded, relieved. "I should get you home, then. You look like you've been up most of the moon and-"

Ratchet cut him off, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "You'll do no such thing! You look about ready to drop, yourself. Let Wheeljack take Palgren while you hit the recharger."

Prowl arched an optic ridge, allowing a faint smirk to show. "Bullying me the way you bullied Prime? You never quit, do you?"

"'Be a cold day in The Pit when I do!" the medic retorted. "Now come on, enough stalling. Get some down time before I toss you into a berth, myself!"

Palgren chuckled as Wheeljack picked him up and carried him out. "Not unlike a bossy mother, that one."

"True, that," the engineer chuckled as he transformed, settling his passenger into the front seat. "But that's how we know he cares."

xxxxxxx

When Arc came back online later, he found nearly all his hosts working away on various projects. Ratchet was busy setting up two more recharge berths with the help of Brawn and Windcharger and upon his return Wheeljack began shuffling through a large stack of schematics, muttering to himself about design specs and a needed list of parts. Unwilling to leave without Lithos and figuring it was useless to bother the others at the moment, Arc found a corner to sit in, taking a little time to mull over the situation.

In truth, the actions of these so-called "Rogues" confused him. Contrary to the tip-off report, they were not out attacking junkers and raiding private installations, but rather seemed content to keep to themselves and swap old stories while working on personal projects. Additionally, they were so much like himself it was startling. All of them possessed a full range of emotions and could think on their own. Lithos tried to keep Arc away from regular bots and military Tarthans, fearing that because the silver and black mech was so unique, he would be considered a walking glitch and thus too dangerous to keep in service. Stranger still, the three largest of the group were unlike anything else on Tarth in terms of design. Yet somehow they looked so familiar.

Just before the suns reached their highest points, the medic left his work and walked to a nearby table, picking up a bit of cloth to wipe the oil and grease from his hands. As Arc glanced up at him, the other met his gaze and smirked.

"How's the leg, Arc?"

"Still stiff," the military mech replied. "I dunno whether to slug you in the faceplate for shootin' me or shake your hand for fixin' the damage."

"It'd be mighty in character for you to do both, I think," Ratchet chuckled before offering a clean hand. "I'm takin' five. Walk outside with me?"

Arc considered the offer with an expression of uncertainty before gripping Ratchet's hand in his own and allowing the medic to help him to his feet. Moving side by side, they walked out into the sunshine, Ratchet leading the way to a cleared area where a couple of old crates sat. He waved towards one and took a seat on another.

"I still don't understand why y'all act like you know me," Arc said as he sat down. "You ever gonna explain that, or am I just gonna get left hangin'?"

Ratchet leaned forward, elbow joints resting on his knees. "To be honest, it wouldn't do any good to explain it right now. You wouldn't be able to take it all in. And trust me, I know how it feels, wandering around feeling clueless and incomplete. But as soon as Jaraxis is well enough, we'll have him Speak and get your spark completely reconnected."

"'Speak'?"

"Jaraxis is a mouthpiece of L'Ranna. She reconnected us all through him, but don't ask me how. All this slag is well beyond me and that's saying something, since as a doctor, I like to believe in miracles. I'm not the most spiritual mech you'll ever meet, but still." Ratchet paused a moment and then laughed suddenly. "Funny, explaining half of this. You know it, but you don't. After the Speaking you'll probably look back on our little talk and laugh, too."

Arc glanced down at his feet, frustration washing over him. It was like missing out on a joke that everyone else got, the punch line eluding him. "I feel kinda like I belong here, only...not. Things were simpler when it was just me and Lithos, but I like knowing I'm not the only one like me, ya know? I was gettin' tired of being the only mech who could see beyond simple orders."

"Figured there might have been something wrong with you because you were more independent than the rest?"

"Thought that way sometimes, yeah. But I didn't like thinkin' like that. And Lithos would get upset when I'd mention it. Told me not to think of myself as a walking malfunction. Still, I'd always end up feelin' guilty because he spent so much time defending me at first that the other Riders alienated him. Called him crazy. He's gettin' old and while he was already starting to fall behind the youngin's moving up through the ranks, that only made things worse."

The medic offered a small, sad smile. "Two of a kind, the pair of ya. And you did good to stick by him. That's something the old mech I know would definitely do for a good friend."

Arc fell silent for a bit, thinking that over before speaking again. "Hey, doc?"

"Yeah?"

"What'd ya say my real name was supposed to be?"

"'Ironhide.' You were our Head of Security."

"Odd name, yet somehow I feel like it fits me," the military bot commented thoughtfully. "Well, seein' as how I'll be here a while and you guys have got all the answers, guess I may as well get used to hearin' that name. Hate to toss the old one aside because Lithos gave it to me, but gotta be who I gotta be, right?"

"I think he'll understand. Jaraxis gave me my Tarthan name when he found me, too, but he came to understand the changes I went through when I regained my sense of self and reclaimed my old name."

"Yeah? What was your Tarthan name?"

"'Ryn'."

Arc chuckled. "The old word for 'wing', huh? Must've been due to that funny bit of metal you got on yer head?"

Ratchet flicked an index finger against the black and red piece with a smirk. "Yep. But don't knock it too much, ya hear? I happen to think it's my best feature!"

The pair shared a bit of good natured chuckling before the medic got to his feet, the other following his lead.

"So what now?" the black and silver asked.

"We go back inside and kick Prowl out of berth. If he stays in much longer, he'll never get any rest after moonrise!"

"Mind if I give ya a hand?"

Ratchet grinned as he motioned for the other to go ahead of him. "Be my guest, Ironhide. Be my guest!"

xxxxxxx

As the suns began to set, the six bots retired outside to watch the evening light fade and discuss their next move. Ratchet occupied his usual crate, Prowl and Ironhide taking two of the others. Wheeljack lay sprawled on the ground nearby, optics focused on the color changing sky above as the last rays of light vanished. Windcharger and Brawn sat almost side by side on the ground, the former leaning back against a small pile of scrap with his hands behind his head.

"Well, we've got one new 'charger up and running," Ratchet reported, tired but satisfied. "Someone'll have to make a parts run at suns up so we can finish the other, though."

"Prowl an' I can handle that, since we know our way around and have our vehicle modes to get by with," Wheeljack suggested, head fins flashing a content mellow blue. "Besides, I've about got schematics worked up for Brawn and Windcharger, but we don't have all the parts for that, either. We can get those on the same run."

"Mm," was the strategist's only response to the idea as he gazed at the horizon, lips quirked into a slight frown.

Ratchet grinned. "We takin' time away from Mira's lessons, chief?"

"Yes, actually," came the mildly irritated response. "I would rather pick her up come suns rise and spend the day with her."

"So take Ratch with you instead, Wheeljack," Windcharger suggested. "Wish I could go, myself. I'm tired of bein' cooped up here, but without an alternate mode the military would probably find and arrest me."

"Ratchet?" 'Jack questioned.

"Ah, fine. I'll go. But if any of you robotoid turkeys messes up my workshop while we're away, I'll come back and put a laser scalpel up all yer afts!"

The others chuckled, earning an amused smirk from the medic despite himself.

"Incoming, fellahs," Brawn announced, glancing towards the workshop. "Looks like our two unconscious fur balls finally decided to come visit."

"Jaraxis, Lithos," Prowl greeted with a nod as the pair reached the group. "How are you two faring?"

"Tired," was the first thing out of the younger Tarthan's mouth. "And the old one snores."

"Bah, such lack of respect for your elders," the soldier growled, one ear tipped back in annoyance. "You're lucky I like your grandmother so much, kind thing she is. Arc, are you alright?"

"Fine, but I'm tryin' to get used to my real name," Ironhide responded. "It's-"

"'Ironhide', I know," Lithos finished, earning startled looks from all present except the Tarthan at his side. "Jaraxis here did something to me last moon. Pumped me full of weird images and memories that belong to someone else. Found out quite a bit, even though it doesn't all make sense. Been tryin' to think through it all this time. Suppose I'll just miss callin' you by the name I gave you, Ironhide."

"Guess that whole 'reliving the past' thing is getting to be our common thread, mech or Tarthan," Brawn sighed. "Can't say I liked it much. Painful enough the first time, eating laser fire from the likes of Starscream and Megatron. So when's Ironhide getting the treatment?"

"In a bit here, if he's ready," Jaraxis replied.

"You sure you're up to that? You don't look too good," Wheeljack commented as he sat up and gave the mechanic an appraising glance.

Jaraxis sighed and shook his head. "I could stand waiting until suns rise, but I'm starting to wonder if we're running short on time. I would rather all of you be whole and ready to go than spare my own health."

Ironhide tilted his head to one side. "What'd ya mean by that?"

"The suns up after we returned from collecting Brawn and Windcharger, L'Ranna sent me a disturbing vision...one I'm still not sure how to interpret. It was of a giant Ch'danth like creature. and it was rampaging through Rasha towards the power well tower and generator. Nothing could stop it. When I questioned her, the only word I got in reply was 'Locke'."

"If it's a prophetic vision, any idea how long we have before that comes to pass or even what causes it?" Prowl inquired.

The younger Tarthan shook his head. "I asked, but got no answer. As I said, the only word sent along with the vision was 'Locke'. And it's a name that means absolutely nothing to me."

"'Fraid it doesn't mean anything to us, either," Wheeljack admitted. "But if anything, I think that's a strong indicator that we need to get our afts in gear; finish up that recharger, build more weapons, convert Brawn, 'Charger and 'Hide, and then get rid of the Ch'danth."

Their strategist nodded in agreement. "I'll speak with Palgren again when I pick up Mira at suns up. He might be able to connect that name to something for us."

"Well, Ironhide?" Jaraxis asked as he stepped forward. "Are you ready?"

The big mech nodded as he got up. "Seein' as how I'm tired of bein' left out of the loop, more than ready. Just tell me what to do."

"Lay down, then," Jaraxis instructed, already trying to brace himself mentally for facing visions of the Great War one final time. "Ratchet, if you could give me a hand up?"

As Ironhide lay down on his back in the center of the little circle, the medic stood and took the mechanic into his hands. Placing Jaraxis gently on Ironhide's chest, Ratchet paused to rest one hand lightly on his companion's back.

"Two full suns and moons of rest after this, you hear?" he growled. "I won't hear of any less!"

"I think I'll be more than happy to oblige after this, my friend," Jaraxis agreed with a weak smile before turning to his task. As Ratchet pulled back, the Tarthan hunched down and closed his Sun Eyes, hands extended towards Ironhide's head. "L'Ranna...speak through me."

As his Moon Eye opened, the Tarthan's body went rigid. All present winced visibly, able to sense the power and memories as they coursed through the Speaker's body, Cybertronian words spilling from his mouth as he spoke in an ancient female voice. Ironhide gasped, optic band flaring brightly as he relived his own death and witnessed the fate of Autobot City. The mech's body shuddered, hands clenching into fists as he relived every moment of pain. Yet, he did not cry out, his mouth drawn into a tight line as though he were denying his absent enemies satisfaction.

As Jaraxis finished, a single drop of fluid escaped the corner of the bot's optic covering, coursing down his cheek and dropping silently into the dirt beneath his head. Completely exhausted, the Tarthan fell forward, collapsing onto Ironhide's chest with a low whimper.

A few nanokliks passed while Ironhide collected himself mentally before sitting up, carefully letting Jaraxis slide into the palm of one hand. He cradled the unconscious Tarthan as though he were afraid a sudden move might break the poor creature in half, one finger moving to stroke a wilted ear out of gratitude. As the silver and black mech glanced up, his gaze was met by several pairs of optics, all of which reflected relief.

"Rough as it's been," Ironhide admitted quietly, managing a weak smile, "It's good to be back. Thanks for not quittin' on me, guys."

* * *

_Next chapter... A means to an end._


	15. Chapter 14: A Means to an End

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Apologies for how long it took me to get this one posted. Due to the large amount of backstory information this chapter contains, it took some time to get it all organized. And despite taking as much time as I did, I still feel this part came off a little rough. We've got about another four to five chapters to haul through before this one's over, so strap yourselves in... The slag is about to hit the oscillating device.

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 14: "The Means to an End"_

The next few suns were spent making alterations to the workshop and scavenging parts for modifications, repairs and some extra funds. Prowl, Wheeljack and Ratchet took turns making runs beyond the city barrier, Lithos accompanying them under the guise of a hired hand for Jaraxis' business while the mechanic took time to recover from his last Speaking. Feeling as though the military had shunned him and knowing he would be unable to return without punishment for absence, Lithos dedicated himself to helping out his new allies. The only drawback was being unable to show his face outside the scrap yard without a disguise. 

Despite the fact that all six Autobots had been reunited, however, tension weighed heavily on the group from suns rise to suns set. Palgren agreed to do research on Jaraxis' vision, but as time passed he could not seem to come up with any answers. And with all six gathered, L'Ranna's words to Ratchet about how they were destined to save the Tarthan race seemed to bring the reality of all out war even closer. Yet they did not know enough about their enemy, nor how to completely halt the Ch'danth in their steady take-over of the planet. The group as a whole also feared that they would face a second invasion on their home. What if Lithos had not been the only soldier to receive bits of dubious information about a Rogue hideout? Ironhide in particular worried that sooner or later, someone would be sent to find the old soldier and come snooping around the scrap yard. 

Six suns from Ironhide's awakening, Brawn and Windcharger were permitted to leave the scrap yard, able to convert to alternate modes as designed by Wheeljack. Windcharger's new dark red and silver vehicle mode did not differ greatly from his old one, merely adding necessary extras such as anti-gravitational devices and tinted windows, as well as more extraneous parts such as the fins common on many Tarthan privately owned crafts. Brawn's alternate mode, however, was a much further cry from his original Earth one. While maintaining an amber and dark green color scheme, as well as all the necessary elements to hide his true identity, the minibot found his new vehicle mode to be less boxy on the whole. Less like an Earth jeep and more like the Tarthan version of a pickup truck, he had an open space in the back that could be used for carrying cargo. 

Not long after, the last of the group was finally granted an alternate mode. Ironhide accepted a deep red back into his overall color scheme, but insisted on keeping some of the black and silver. Ratchet replaced the red optic band with regular blue optics, but upon the old Chief of Security's request, kept in a sliding band that would effectively shield Ironhide's eyes during a fight, making his face look a little reminiscent of "good ol' Jazz." The mech's helmet was restored to its original shape, the metal "mohawk" on top sporting a black streak along the top-most edge. Finally, Ironhide's alternate turned out similar to Ratchet's, although built a bit tougher and slightly wider, similar to Tarthan military transport crafts. 

The three latest additions to the Autobot troops were, for the most part, left to design their own personal weaponry. Ironhide devised and created a set of arm lower arm mounted beam blades, meant to hook to the outer side of each arm with grip handles that faced inwards. Windcharger decided to bank on an old ability of his by building a pair of gauntlets that fit over his hands and lower arms. Able to cast both magnetic fields and discharge electrical shocks, they promised to be formidable weapons again the Ch'danth. And with a bit of help from Wheeljack, Brawn came up with a personal weapon system that not only fit his fighting style, but was totally unique to the group. Using two arm mounted force field generators similar to the one he created for Jaraxis, Wheeljack altered the devices so that they would not only protect, but repel. With the form fitting field over his arms, a single punch from the minibot could do massive amounts of damage. The only draw back was a considerable drain on Brawn's personal energy reserves. 

For a while, things seemed to settle into something of a normal routine. There were few attempts by the Ch'danth to enter the city and with everyone gathered there was no further need for wild goose chases. Jaraxis regained his strength and although everyone wondered if they were merely experiencing the calm before the storm, they could not resist the chance to recover from the hectic pace previously set out of desperation. While the suns were up, time was generally spent knocking about the workshop or making runs downtown or outside the city. And with every moonrise the Autobots and their Tarthan allies gathered in their usual spot in the yard for conversation and relaxation, telling old war stories and musing about what might be happening on Earth and Cybertron in their absence. 

"Ya know who I miss?" Ironhide was saying one evening during the usual gathering, Lithos perched on his shoulder and enjoying a bit of a smoke on an odd looking pipe. "Red Alert. Paranoid as they come, but he was a good kid. Always tried hard, anyway." 

Windcharger chuckled. "I miss him, too, but I don't miss the lectures on proper homebase security." 

"Sorta like how ol' Ratch here misses Gears, but not all the complaints," Wheeljack added with a wink. "I miss Grapple and Hoist, myself, even though Grapple could be real whiney and picky part of the time. A real perfectionist about every little thing. He used to get his wires in a knot every time one of my inventions exploded too close to one of his design projects." 

"Bah! I'm homesick enough to even miss Sunstreaker and Tracks ranting about how I would sometimes chip their paint jobs while repairing their whining afts," the medic among them grumbled. 

"We could try to make up for that, ya know," Brawn offered with a sly grin. "Can't have doc Ratchet breaking his cranky streak just because we're here for the time being!" 

The others laughed while Ratchet jokingly told the minibot to shut his yap. But their mirth died away as N'Chala and Jaraxis approached from the house, their expressions all too serious. 

"Something wrong?" Prowl inquired as the two reached the circle. "You both look as though you received some bad news." 

The female Tarthan nodded, her eyes betraying exhaustion. "L'Ranna has just paid me a visit. She asks that you all go to her chambers as soon as possible. She says she is ready to reveal the means to an end." 

"I take she intends to tell us how to destroy the Ch'danth," the Autobot strategist surmised. "If that's the case, we should leave immediately. With the moon up, we'll have enough cover from darkness to get into the underground without much risk of being caught." 

N'Chala nodded. "My grandson will have to go with you. Just please be sure to take good care of him. He's well rested at this point, but I fear what extended contact may do to him." 

Jaraxis said nothing, gaze focused on the ground somewhere at the center of the circle. 

Prowl stood up, the others following suite. "We will. You have my word he'll be our highest priority while in the underground, N'Chala. Autobots, let's roll for it." 

"Huh, 'bout time we met this L'Ranna," Brawn growled to his fellow minibot as the group cleared out. "I've got half a mind to gripe her out for bein' less than gentle about reintroducing us to the world." 

Windcharger shrugged. "It wasn't pleasant, but at least it worked. Just so long as it never has to happen again, I guess." 

Once up by the entrance, the six transformed, Jaraxis climbing into Ratchet's cab and Lithos occupying Ironhide's front seat. Engines revving, they pulled out onto the main road. 

"Ratchet," Prowl's voice echoed over the comm link between the lot, "You'll have to lead the way. You know the quickest route to the underground and the chamber." 

"Roger that," came the medic's reply as he was allowed to pull out in front of the convoy. Shutting off his external communicator for the moment, Ratchet looked in on his passenger via an internal camera. "Are you sure you're alright, 'Rax? You've not been your usual self these last few suns. I've hardly heard a word out of you. I thought you might just be tired, but--" 

"I'm alright, Ratch," came the low reply, the mechanic sitting with his back to the passenger side door, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped about his legs. "You're right. I'm...just tired." 

Inwardly, the medic frowned. "You shouldn't be. You've had more than enough time to recover from the last Speaking." 

Jaraxis shifted his weight a bit, tail curling around his feet, but said nothing in response. 

Starting to feel frustrated, Ratchet tried again. "Look, 'Rax, you're really starting to worry me, here. I need you to talk to me. Whatever's bothering you, just get it off your chassis, already." 

"...there's too much to cover, Ratch. Really." 

"Gonna be a bit longer before we get to the right alley and underground entrance." 

"Hn." 

A long sigh escaped the medic's vocal synthesizer. "Jaraxis, I gotta be honest. You're driving me five kinds of crazy with this. It really bothers me to see you like this. I NEED you to tell me what's wrong. ...please." 

"...you're going to think part of it is stupid." 

"If it's getting your tail in a knot, does it matter what I think of the problem, itself? I'm a doctor, 'Rax. I care more about the patient than the illness." 

Jaraxis sighed, leaning back and gazing up at the ceiling of the cab. "It's just... It's just that while I know you guys are all homesick, I suppose a part of me hoped you'd get to like it enough here to stay. Even for as sick as the Speaking makes me, I like the company... I like feeling...needed like that. And I know how foolish and selfish that sounds." 

Ratchet remained quiet for a long moment before replying. "It's not really that selfish, but our going home is dependent on if we even live long enough to do so. I don't want to be so pessimistic, but it's something I can't help but take into consideration." 

"Don't talk that way. I don't want to think that way, either. I want to think we'll all be fine in the end. That we'll have a big victory party when the Ch'danth are gone and the city is open to the rest of the world. But then I always get mental images of Wheeljack designing a shuttle and the lot of you saying your goodbyes before returning to Cybertron... And then me, not knowing what to do with myself." 

"...have you ever thought about coming with us?" 

"I...I couldn't. Grandmother needs me, here. Soon she'll be too old to do the cooking and cleaning by herself, anymore." Resting one hand on Ratchet's control panel, Jaraxis managed a small, sad smile. "Look, don't worry about it, anymore. Nothing you can do, anyway. Let's just get this visit with L'Ranna over with so I can pass out for another moon and suns." 

Despite a need to pursue the subject further, to at least try and make his companion feel better, Ratchet couldn't find the words. Falling silent again, he turned his full attention back to the road ahead just as his external communicator blipped, warning of incoming transmission. He picked up in time to catch Prowl's inquiry. 

"--much farther, Ratchet?" 

"We're almost there," the medic responded as he led the way down a set of side streets. "Just another left up ahead and we'll be on top of the entrance." 

Coming to a halt at the correct junction, Ratchet transformed, automatically ejecting his passenger into one hand as he did so. The others followed suite, Ironhide allowing Lithos to climb out on his own before converting and taking the old soldier into one hand. Making his way down the narrow alley, the medic caught sight of the same entryway he'd used to gain access to the underground, before. The locks had been repaired since he and Jaraxis used the double doors to get below, but they were easily removed with a quick yank of the armored hand. Pulling the split metal barrier apart, Ratchet eased the doors down on either side before edging inside. One by one, the other Autobots slipped in after him. 

"Gah, barely any room to move in this place!" Ironhide grumbled as he brought up the rear, shoulders grating against the side walls. He cursed as his head scraped the ceiling. 

"Heh, for once I feel like the lucky one, bein' so short!" Windcharger said with a grin. "How far's the chamber, anyway?" 

"There's another grate and a drop up ahead," Ratchet replied from the front of the line. "It's sloped, so it's not hard to get down. Just a matter of looking for the marks I left after that." 

"Just lead the way," Prowl said, just a few strides behind. "I'll map the passages as we go." 

Reaching the grate, Ratchet pulled it free and set it aside before sliding down the dusty slope into the pitch black catacombs below. As he stood up and moved forward so Prowl could follow, he felt the Tarthan on his shoulder edging closer to his head. 

"Alright, 'Rax?" he questioned quietly as the other mechs came sliding down. 

"Colder than I remember down here," came the shuddering reply. "I'm really not looking forward to this." 

"Neither am I, to be honest," Ratchet admitted. "But we won't let anything happen to you. I promise you that." 

Jaraxis said nothing more, his tail tensing against the back of the bot's neck as he tightened his hold. 

Ratchet felt Prowl touch him lightly on the other shoulder, urging him forward. Leading the way, he descended further into the ancient corridors with the others in his wake. The group followed the marks until they reached the final one, the humming of a familiar energy guiding them afterwards. Finally, Ratchet came before the strange doors for the second time, a single touch enough to bid the barrier open, golden light radiating from the Cybertronian glyphs. The six stepped into the chamber as it lit up, the pedestal and crystalline sphere atop it pulsing with energy as they approached. They stood in awed silence for a few nanokliks before the medic turned to his smaller companion, a frown on his faceplate. 

"Jaraxis?" 

The Tarthan stiffened at the sound of his name. "...place me on the alter." 

Complying with the request, Ratchet stepped up to the pedestal and placed the Tarthan up on it before edging back a bit. The rest gathered around the odd structure as Jaraxis' Moon Eye opened, his arms spreading in what they assumed was a welcoming gesture and the sphere behind him lighting up. An ethereal glow surrounded the small alien as he began to speak, his voice taking on the dusky feminine tones of L'Ranna. 

"Ratchet, Wheeljack, Prowl, Brawn, Windcharger, Ironhide," the Tarthan began with a small smile, "It is good to see you all standing here of your own volition, at last. The road to freedom for you all has been a long and trying one, and I wish to express my thanks for your efforts. Yours is the power and knowledge to save the Tarthan race and now that you are all here before me, I will give you the answers I know you have desired." 

"That is very kind of you," Prowl responded, speaking for his comrades. "We're grateful for your guidance, but at this point we're a bit lost. The Ch'danth are a powerful force and if the Tarthans have not been able to deal with them previously, we'll no doubt need your help in finding the answers we need to fight this menace off. If you can tell us where to find their nest-" 

"All in due time," L'Ranna interrupted, one hand raised to indicate she desired silence from the group. "To understand the enemy, you must first understand its roots...as well as mine. There are forces at work here beyond Tarthan understanding, which is why you must be the ones to deal with the Ch'danth. 

"Before the escalation of the Great War on Cybertron, many of our kind fled into deep space to escape the violence and madness of the Decepticons. Mine was a small exploration group launched early on with the intention of finding a new home for those who did not wish to fight. My colleauges and I located this planet in the further reaches of space, far from Cybertron. We set up a colony here with the intention of eventually bringing more Autobots to this new land, as well as nurturing a community based on scientific learning. 

"During our first few planetary cycles in residence, we discovered an ancient species of alien with incredible healing abilities. Shortly thereafter, we also found the ancestors of the Tarthans, themselves. Primitive, but with great potential for learning and evolution, we worked with them as well as with the other species. After a period of time, it was proposed by a close colleague of mine that we use the regenerative powers of the first species to try and create a miracle cure for our comrades still at war. You are all familiar with the cost of battle; the pain, death and misery associated with it. Despite the fact that the war was young in those vorns, we wished to end that kind of suffering and so began to experiment with techno-organic cures, creating a type of nanotech meant to exist in a symbiotic relationship with its mechanical host. We were close to a breakthrough in our research when a student of mine, who I had always thought a loyal follower of the Covenant of Primus, betrayed us all. He rallied a number of the others to his cause and a civil war broke out within the colony. This one, Lock-On, had decided it would be worth his while to take over the project and sell off the new miracle cure to the leaders of the Decepiticon forces. 

"To this day, I feel guilt for not picking up on Lock-On's traitorous intentions. I was fortunate to be one of those blessed with an unexplained ability, the kind Cybertronian myth and legend are based around - I am a true telepath. But it was not until my student's revolt that I learned the truth, that I was not the only blessed colonist in the group. Lock-On buried his true colors beneath false oaths of sincerity while using his own powers to throw my senses. When the time came for his traitorous nature to become known and the civil war erupted, an accident in the main labs caused some of the new nanotechnology to come into contact with the captive subjects we had taken samples from...and these became the first Ch'danth. 

"The colony was overrun and thrown into complete chaos before the situation could be contained. Yet, even with the Ch'danth multiplying, rampaging and infecting their untainted brethren, the fighting between our factions continued. By the time it came to an end, the labs had been destroyed and most of our kind wiped out. At some point during the ongoing battles, Lock-On was attacked and consumed by the Ch'danth. All of us would have shared the same fate if not for the discovery that extreme heat could destroy our foes. However, we failed to completely eliminate them, merely driving the last few underground where they went into hibernation. I attempted to locate and finish them off, but they had become lost in a maze of underground tunnels and caverns. Weakened and knowing that sooner or later the Ch'danth would emerge again, I asked my last loyal colleagues to entomb me here, where I would one day be able to advise the planet's dominant race on how to destroy the abominations we accidentally created. And, as you can see, even our last efforts were not without strife..." 

Jaraxis waved one arm at the rusted and ravaged bodies littering the chamber floors, L'Ranna's voice turning cold. "Before my spark could finish entering the network of lines and systems we built and attached to the colony's old power well, a few of Lock-On's remaining colleagues attacked. All were wiped out in the end. Since then I have waited, hoping and sending desperate prayers through what little access to the astral planes I possess. The Tarthans have become the dominant race as I predicted, but they are still not advanced enough to understand and combat the mutated Cybertronian technology that now threatens their very existence. They have discovered and utilized the well, a device we built to tap the internal energy reserves of the planet, but it will not last forever with such extended and constant use. And given enough time, the Ch'danth will eventually overrun this planet and consume everything on the surface. Tarth will become a barren wasteland, unfit to support life." 

Brawn began to mutter something about cleaning up after other mech's mistakes, but Prowl silenced him with a look before glancing back at the Tarthan. "So seeing as how you helped create those monsters, can you give us a solution as to how to get rid of them? We're only six against their thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands." 

"Well over a million vorns of hibernation and evolution have tailored the nanotechnology to fit the needs of the Ch'danth," L'Ranna explained, Jaraxis' hands steepled together. "They are much more willing to consume organic life than mechanical life, giving Cybertronians the edge by default. The key will be using that fact to your advantage in order to infiltrate the nesting grounds and destroy the being you might refer to as their 'hive queen.' I have sensed its presence since the Ch'danth's initial awakening; it is a monstrous beast at the center of the nest, giving rise to new subjects while feeding on the old and weak. Its life is a constant cycle of spawning new offspring and recycling the dying. If you can gain access to the central chambers and detonate enough explosives, the tunnels will be flooded with fire and the nesting grounds cleansed." 

"And your advice on how to gain such access?" the Autobot strategist inquired. 

"The Ch'danth rely heavily on their sense of smell to tell friend from foe. Individually, they are unintelligent and driven only by the instinctive need to feed and eventually be fed upon, but in packs, they are more than enough to destroy all of you, so your scents must be masked. To this end, you must become Ch'danth yourselves. The presence of your sparks combined with your molecular makeup will allow you to be absorbed by the nanotechnology for a limited time without being completely consumed. By using a device to help you control it and if you can obtain a sample of the technology to manipulate for the purpose, you should be able to enter the nest and achieve your goal." 

"Now wait just a darn astrosecond! You mean we gotta feed ourselves to those monsters for this to work? I didn't come back from the dead just to be volunteer alien fodder!" Ironhide exclaimed amidst the disgruntled rumblings of the rest. 

"He's right," Brawn agreed. "As it is, we're already fixing YOUR mistakes! We're not your personal pawns, so don't treat us like we're expendable!" 

The Tarthan's mouth twitched, but L'Ranna's tone remained almost indifferent. "I have devised a control chip design that will keep you in control of the nanotech and allow it to envelop you without destroying you. I cannot promise the experience will completely pain free, but I have been considering this problem since you all first arrived on Tarth and there is no better means to our needed end. Via the knowledge gleaned from your memories, I sense Ratchet and Wheeljack possess the capacity to create the control chips, as well as alter a sample of the nanotechnology to be compatible with them. All they need do is follow my instructions..." 

Lifting a hand, Jaraxis caused the sphere behind him to project an image into the air above them, the light lines twisting to form a three dimensional holographic schematic. "This is what you will require. Memorize it and use it to your advantage. In return, I only ask a single favor." 

"And that is?" Prowl asked, an optic ridge raised. 

"Bring me a sample of the altered nanotechnology. It bears the power to destroy this planet, but it also may hold the key to saving it. Tarth was once an environment rich in energy, plant and animal life. Perhaps by using my research as I originally intended, it can become such a place once more." 

There were a few grunts of uncertainty from the Autobots, but Prowl nodded and placed one hand over his chassis in a display of agreement. "...we'll do what we can. Ratchet, Wheeljack, have you copied down those schematics?" 

"Committed to memory and backed up," 'Jack replied. "We're set." 

"One last bit of information," L'Ranna said, the schematics above shifting to a layout of the terrain around and beyond Rasha. "A map that will guide you to the nest. Remember that once you become a member of the enemy's ranks, your time will be limited. Even altered, the nanotechnology has the capacity to overrun your systems. Use it to alter your appearance, finish your mission and return to your original selves before destroying it as you destroy the Ch'danth. Save only a small portion in cold containment for my purposes." 

With that, the light faded from Jaraxis' Moon Eye, the lid falling shut before the Tarthan himself tipped forward in a dead faint. Wheeljack, being closest to the pedastal, dove and made the catch before the mechanic could land head first on the stone and metal flooring below. As Wheeljack stood up and handed the unconscious youth to Ratchet, who bore an expression of frustration and worry on his faceplate, Ironhide turned to the soldier on his shoulder. 

"You farin' alright, Lithos? I know all this is probably even stranger for you than fer us..." 

The aging Tarthan sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Never thought it all began in such a way... Don't think any of us ever even really thought about where it all started in the first place. We just figured the Ch'danth for monsters that needed to be exterminated. And as for L'Ranna... My own mother raised me to think of her as some kinda deity, but...turns out she's just another lost soul of sorts. I'll be thinking through all this for a long time to come, that's for sure. It's almost too much for an old Tarthan like me." 

Ironhide nodded, expression empathetic. "Don't feel too bad, ol' buddy. I'm older than the war she was talkin' about and it's almost too much for me, too. So tell ya what? We'll have a sit down when we get home and have a chat about it or something." 

"Will Jaraxis be alright, Ratchet?" Prowl questioned in the meantime, optics reflecting his concern. 

The medic nodded after a moment, one hand held protectively over his fallen friend. "Just unconscious, as usual. Better get him home to N'Chala before it gets to be too much later in the moon." 

As the others filed out of the chamber to head for the surface, Ratchet hung behind a moment to glance back at the pedestal, anger filling him. He was sure of it, now. 

He could feel Jaraxis' pain. And he didn't care for its cause one bit.

* * *

_Next chapter... The calm before the fire storm._


	16. Chapter 15: Last Preparations

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Just a reminder for those not quite as familiar with Transformers time measurements... One breem is equivalent to 8.3 Earth minutes and one vorn is equivalent to 83 Earth years. Also, the name "Shun" is pronounced "Shoon." Enjoy!

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 15: "Last Preparations"_

Prowl regarded the scene before him with little more than a raised optic ridge. Vorns of experience taught him how to hold what humans referred to as a proper "poker face" in a delicate situation. 

And two military goons holding a bed-clothed hostage at gun point definitely fit a textbook description of such a situation. 

The strategist noted movement out of the corner of one optic and held up a hand to stop Ironhide from going on the offensive. The rest hung back without needing orders, despite their rising anger. After a rough half moon of dealing with L'Ranna, returning home to find one of their hosts in peril was not anyone's idea of a good time. Glancing down at the trio of Tarthans where they stood near the house entrance, Prowl transmitted a silent message in code to one of the others before verbally addressing the issue at hand. 

"Fen, Grawl," he began, maintaining an even tone, "Care to elaborate on why you're holding someone's grandmother hostage?" 

"We warned you we'd be back!" Fen growled back, tail lashing. "We've had about enough of you rogue mechs and the trouble you've caused!" 

"So kindly turn over both Jaraxis and Lithos," Grawl added, his voice calm despite the weapon he held to N'Chala's head. 

Prowl frowned. "And if we do, just what do you intend to do with them?" 

"Lithos is wanted for abandonment of post and theft of military equipment," Grawl replied. "As for Jaraxis-" 

"Harboring Lithos, stolen goods and Rogues!" the other Rider interrupted. "You lot are no match for the military in the end, so hand the pair over and the old one won't get hurt!" 

Prowl didn't need the powers of a Dreamkeeper to know that Ratchet and Ironhide were seething behind him. He was about to try and buy a bit more time when Lithos spoke from Ironhide's shoulder. 

"You can take me, but leave the kit out of this. Lay all the blame on me if you want. Not like the truth won't catch up to a pair of corrupt Riders like you in the end, anyway." 

"Lithos, no!" the old Chief of Security protested. "Those two hairballs can't be trusted! What if they take you halfway across town and finish you off in some dark alley?" 

"He speaks truly," N'Chala managed to get out, expression one of utter contempt. "These lackeys are not to be taken seriously. Besides, I'd rather they kill me than harm a single hair on my grandson's head! You hear, Ratchet? Don't let them have Jarax-" 

Fen decked the elder female, cutting her off. Ignoring the rage filled mutterings from his captive audience, he looked to their appointed leader. "Well, what'll it be, junk heap? You've got to the count of ten to decide before we take the ancient one and go! One, two..." 

Prowl smirked inwardly as a silent transmission reached him. "I don't think any of our group will be going anywhere else this moon, my good Riders." 

"Wrong answer!" Fen snarled back. "Grawl, get the hostage--GAH!" 

The Rider fell backwards as his weapon suddenly flew from his hands, spiraling upwards into the air. A moment later Grawl lost his firearm as well, both guns well out of their reach. Then the pair, themselves, were hauled up, dangling over the ground as though a pair of hooks and lines had been attached to their metal belts. As they began cursing and kicking helplessly about, Windcharger emerged from the shadows cast by the workshop, gauntlet covered hands raised in the intruders' direction. 

"Been waitin' to try these things on something like this," the minibot said with a grin. "How'd I do, chief?" 

"Wonderfully, Windcharger. I was a little worried you wouldn't be able to slip away from the group that easily, but having big bots like Ironhide and Ratchet directly behind me helped," Prowl replied with a small smile before regarding their new captives. "So... Now that our roles are reversed, what say you two listen to a proposition of mine?" 

"You wouldn't dare hurt us! We know you don't have it in you!" Fen shouted back in and attempt to hide the fear in his voice. 

"We like to respect sentient life," the tactician agreed as his fellows came up alongside him. "But that doesn't mean we can't come up with creative ways to teach you a lesson, either. It's not really my department, but Ratchet and Ironhide here are both very experienced when it comes to finding non-lethal, yet grueling punishments for young military upstarts like yourselves." 

Ironhide popped the joints on his fingers while the medic leaned in a bit to fix Fen with a disgusted glare. "Indeed, and seein' as how we need to do a little Ch'danth hunting over the next few suns, what say you two serve as bait?" 

Fen and Grawl exchanged nervous glances before the former spoke again. "So...what was that proposition you mentioned before? Just so, you know, we can keep our options open?" 

Prowl folded his arms across his chest, smile still firmly in place. "Open options are usually good. Windcharger, if you'd show our guests inside?" 

The red and silver minibot nodded and directed the pair of Tarthans and their weapons towards the workshop, most of the other mechs in his wake. Ratchet hung back, kneeling by the house door with Jaraxis still shielded in his hands. 

"N'Chala, are you alright?" the medic questioned, watching the old female closely. 

"Hrmph. I may be getting on in cycles, but it will take more than a pair of fools like those two to hurt me," she grumped in response. "What concerns me more is the state of my grandson." 

Ratchet opened his hands and lowered them to the ground, the unconscious form of Jaraxis curled up in one of his palms. "He's been out since L'Ranna left him. Doesn't seem worse than usual, but he'll probably need a lot of rest." 

N'Chala sighed and brushed one hand back over Jaraxis' forehead before taking him from the mech's hands. "I do hope this is all over, soon. He may be young, but he is not up to this kind of challege. I fear it is slowly changing him in ways that cannot be reversed." 

"I'm sorry, N'Chala, it's-" 

"Not your fault," she interrupted, forcing a weak smile. "None of you wished this upon my grandson. And having you all here has made him happier than he has been since his father and twin brother died, any problems with Speaking aside. I'm just an old Dreamkeeper who's worried about the last remaining member of her family. I know what must be done, but sometimes doing taking the right course of action is the hardest thing of all. Now go help the others deal with those two troublemakers and then get some rest, Ratchet. That's an order." 

The mech felt a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So you're ordering the doctor around now, eh?" 

"I am a grandmother, dear, and that makes me the greatest of forces to be reckoned with!" N'Chala replied, warmth in her voice. "Now go on. Get out of here before I take my walking stick to your ankles!" 

Ratchet was unable to hide a full fledged smile as he stood up and performed a small bow. "As you wish, m'lady. We'll see you come suns rise." 

"That you will. Now go on, off with you." N'Chala tapped him on the side of the leg with her staff and sent him off, watching until he vanished inside the workshop. She then pulled Jaraxis inside with her, muttering good naturedly as she went. "Lovable scoundrel, that one. Reminds me a bit of Shun." 

xxxxxxx

Fen and Grawl were released well before suns rise and sent back to the military barracks. Prowl had been nothing less than adamant about the terms of their new agreement, insisting that they actually sign electronic contracts to seal the deal. Neither were allowed to go anywhere near the scrap yard or its inhabitants, and were sworn to silence about the existence of the Autobots and their makeshift base. The contract was enforced by the strategist's threat that if either Tarthan went back on their word, a secret military contact in league with the Autobots would inform the group where they lived and what duties they would have from day to day. More aware than ever that these "Rogues" were free thinking, the Riders expressed nothing short of horror at the idea of Brawn or Windcharger coming for them in the dead of night and dumping them somewhere outside the city barrier. 

The Autobots "slept" late that following suns before rising to begin work on their most delicate and important project, yet - designing the cold containment unit and control chips that would allow them to manipulate Ch'danth techno-organic flesh. For the next three suns, each mech worked at an assigned task, whether it was putting together lines of programming or hunting down more materials. As the moon began to rise at the end of that third full day of work, Prowl approached Ratchet to inform him that everyone except the medic would be up for most of the moon in preparation for the upcoming hunt. 

"My apologies, Ratchet," the black and white began as he walked outside with the medic at his side, "But I think it would be best to keep you on a normal schedule and have you remain behind for this operation. I know you've had a lot do with building that cold containment unit and helping with the control programming, but we can't risk having all our able bodies in the field this time." 

"Eh, I ain't thrilled about the idea, but I can't argue with your logic," Ratchet sighed. "Someone's gotta be here and functional in case one or all of you come back torn up." 

Prowl nodded. "Exactly. I just wanted to talk with you about this, since I know that lately you've become quite the able bodied warrior." 

"And you, quite the talker," the other added with a smirk. "None of us are quite the mechs we used to be. But you ain't leavin' me out of the final run, you hear? I'm making that all or nothing, because I won't do anyone any good as the last Autobot if you all get lost in the hive tunnels. I sure as slag wouldn't be able to go in after you." 

"Judging from the maps L'Ranna provided, we'll have no choice but to take all available bodies. Five of us won't be able to carry enough explosives to do the job and as it is, I'm not entirely sure six will suffice, either." 

"Guess we'll find out, huh?" 

"I suppose. Worse comes to worse, we can execute a 'clean up' operation afterwards," Prowl replied before patting his companion on one shoulder. "Now get some rest, Ratchet. You won't be missing much tonight. Just a bunch of old geezers hanging around the junk yard and talking up old stories." 

Ratchet sighed. "Same old, same old. But I'll miss it, anyway. Good moon, Prowl." 

"Good moon, old friend." 

xxxxxxx

The next suns set brought with it a good deal of anxiety and excitement. Having spent most of the day in their recharge berths after being up all moon, five of the six Autobots prepared to go on a Ch'danth hunting excursion. It would be difficult to convince one of the watch towers to let them out, but if the possibility existed to hunt during the moon, it was a chance to be taken. Ch'danth were easier to find without the glare of the twin suns covering the land. 

After double checking all their equipment and loading up the cold containment unit in Ironhide's cargo hold, the crew left the scrap yard, leaving Ratchet, Lithos, N'Chala and Jaraxis behind. 

Three times the Autobots were denied city leave until Wheeljack produced a rather convoluted tale about a group of their associates being trapped at an outpost without supplies. Reluctant as they were to let anyone out after dark, the sentries in the watchtower finally relented under the engineer's pleas and raised the energy shields long enough for the small convoy to escape Rasha. Once out, Brawn and Ironhide proceeded to give Wheeljack a hard time, saying they didn't know he was capable of so much whining. The modified Lancia dismissed them with a chuckle, saying it was merely a case of decent acting. 

After a drive lasting roughly five breems, Prowl called a halt. Transforming, he motioned for Wheeljack to join him, the two casting about for signs of Ch'danth passing. When a trail consisting of several paw prints was located, the pair unloaded the cold containment unit from Ironhide and had the rest convert to robot mode. 

"We'll set up here, downwind of the trail," Prowl decided. "Set out the bait, take your positions and switch to silent comm coding." 

Pulling a large hunk of bagged and bloody meat from the portable freezer, Ironhide emptied the foul mess onto the dirt by the trail before hiding behind some rocks and brush with the others. Acid pellet rifles loaded and ready, the group sat back to wait, the only light about them aside from the moon's luminence their own glowing optics. 

One breem passed, then two and three. Brawn shifted uncomfortably, anxious to see some action. As the fourth breem came and went, the breeze picked up, the scent of the meat attracting a few glowing night insects. The sound of Ironhide popping his knuckle joints echoed faintly against the night wind. 

Then, just as the number of buzzing insects began to increase significantly, the familiar, haunting sound of wings beating reached the mechs. A shrieking cry followed and not one, but three large Ch'danth landed on the trail, their beady eyes glimmering in the dim light. Two of them began to bicker almost immediately, snapping at one another while the third took the opportunity to approach the unguarded prize. 

Prowl removed the safety from his rifle and nodded to his companions. Slowly, they gained their feet and brought their weapons to bear. The five rifles fired almost simultaneously, hardly making a sound thanks to their silencers. Two of the beasts went down immediately, crippled by blows to their hind legs. The last caught one pellet in the hip and managed to scramble off before clumsily taking to the air. 

"Let the airborne one go," Prowl ordered, leading his troops towards the fallen, writhing creatures. "One is all we need. Windcharger, Ironhide, dispose of that one. Wheeljack, Brawn and I will see to pulling a sample off this one." 

While Windcharger and Ironhide made short work of the spare, Brawn and Prowl wrestled the other to the ground completely and bound it in chains. Wheeljack then pulled a regular knife brought specifically for obtaining a sample and took a palm-sized portion of scaly hide from the Ch'danth's thick skinned back. After a quick scan to be sure the sample was still "alive", the engineer carefully sealed it in a thick walled container before locking it in the freezer. Windcharger then finished the job, discharging an electrical shock strong enough to char the captive Ch'danth from head to tail. 

"Huh, quick and clean," Brawn commented dryly as the last of their catch faded into ashes. "And here I was hoping for a bit more excitement." 

"Ya just had to say somethin', didn't ya?" Ironhide grunted, optics narrowing. 

The minibot glanced questioningly at the large red mech, but Ironhide only gestured skyward. As all present looked up, the beating of several pairs of wings filled the air, some two dozen Ch'danth dropping from above. 

As the monsters landed and encircled them, jaws snapping and tails whipping about in the dirt, Prowl ignited his beam blade. "Ironhide, transform. Wheeljack, load up the cold containment unit in Ironhide's cargo area. Brawn, Windcharger? Weapons at ready." 

The foremost Ch'danth shrieked once before charging, the rest at its heels. 

xxxxxxx

Ratchet parked his aft on the ground, leaning back against a mountainous pile of scrap. Sitting with his elbows perched on his drawn up knees, he gazed out across the yard to the shimmering barrier and dark horizon beyond. It had been roughly three breems since the others departed, and the medic had finished his last tasks and decided to lounge outside a short while before hitting the recharge berth. 

"So they left you behind, huh?" 

The mech turned to see Jaraxis approaching, a tired look in his eyes and a small blanket slung about his shoulders. "Yeah, they did. And what's with the makeshift shawl? You look your grandmother with that thing." 

"I'm still not well. Grandmother refused to let me outside without something on." 

Ratchet frowned and straightened out his right leg before reaching over and taking the mechanic in one hand. Setting Jaraxis on his right upper leg, he leaned back again. "So take a load off and sit. I don't want N'Chala comin' out and yellin' at me for lettin' you wander around and gettin' tired." 

"Huh, you're a bad as she is." Jaraxis seated himself and glanced out towards the force field. "This reminds me of the nights Shun and I would sit out and wait for father to come back from his runs." 

"'Shun'?" 

"My twin brother. When we were kits, we had to stay home with grandmother because we were too young to help father. But even though Shun was my twin, he acted more like my elder brother. Grandmother used to complain about how daring and troublesome he was, but he was the braver of the two of us. Had something of a mouth on him, too." The Tarthan's ears drooped a little. "Came out here because Grandmother was talking about Shun and father with Lithos, again. I like that the old folks are getting along, but sometimes it hurts to hear stories about lost family over and over again." 

"Sometimes it hurts to tell and listen to stories with the guys about those we left behind, too," Ratchet responded in understanding. "Our kind rarely has actual family, but I think those twenty years our group spent together primarily on Earth made us something like family." 

The pair sat in silence for a short while, watching the moon rise overhead and listening to the night insects buzz about in the cool air, their tiny lights glinting dull yellow and green in the darkness. Jaraxis flopped down on the mech's leg, laying like a cat with his chin propped up on his crossed arms. 

"Do you think once the war is over and L'Ranna is done with us, the bond will break?" 

"Hrm? Bond?" 

Jaraxis didn't turned as he replied, still watching the horizon. "The bond she created between us. The one that lets me know when you're in pain or angry or concerned..." 

The medic gazed down at his companion, suddenly saddened. So it had gone both ways. "Maybe...and I'm sorry if that's been hurting you on top of everything else, 'Rax. I feel bad as it is, with how much you've already suffered." 

"Don't... Grandmother is right. You're a lot like Shun used to be in a lot of ways and even though my bond with him wasn't quite like this, it was...something similar. ...I miss it." 

Hesitantly, Ratchet brought his right hand over his companion's back. He wanted to say something, but as before, could not find the right words. Beneath his hand, he felt Jaraxis inhale and exhale deeply, body relaxing and tail curling about the bot's thumb. 

"...if I fall asleep, leave me in the workshop overnight. Tired of having Grandmother and Lithos...escorting me in and out...of the house..." 

Silence fell between the pair and after a short while, Ratchet knew Jaraxis had drifted off, his ears flopping over and his breathing becoming slow and deep. A sigh escaping his vocal synthesizer, the medic used his index finger to rub the back of his companion's neck, miserable and upset with himself. Wheeljack was right; retiring from the war meant he shouldn't have to hide his concerns, but even hiding them from the other Autobots never meant they weren't there to begin with. Ratchet just supposed that in hiding them, he'd just made them easier to force aside, pretending they weren't really there. But now that he'd let Jaraxis in and the bond had been forged, he was more aware than ever of his own feelings and how much pain they could inflict. Idly, he wondered if this was how Bumblebee grew to feel about Spike after a while or how Arcee eventually came to feel about Daniel. 

"...I dunno what's comin', 'Rax, but I sure as slag won't let anything happen to you...even if that means I never make it home." 

xxxxxxx

The rising of the suns brought with it the smells of N'Chala cooking in the house, the calls of small, avian like creatures as they nested on the roof of the workshop and...the ranting of one angry medic. 

"YOU ROTTEN SLAGGERS! LOOK AT THIS MESS! What did you do? Play 'kill the guy with the ball' with the Ch'danth ALL FRAGGING MOON?" 

Jaraxis felt the rage building over his link with Ratchet before the verbal explosion outside, but the yelling was what shook him awake fully. Sitting up in his pile of blankets on the back work table, he watched through bleary eyes as the rest of the Autobots entered the shop, all of them covered in dark Ch'danth blood and laughing at their comrade's ongoing tirade. Ratchet brought up the rear, cursing up a storm and nagging Ironhide in particular, as he had a large gash across one shoulder. 

The Tarthan smirked a little. At least the guys were alright and seemed to be in good spirits despite their injuries. Jaraxis figured they'd hadn't been in such a good mood until reaching the barrier and their laughter was probably more out of relief than anything else. And from the looks of the container Wheeljack pulled out of the freezer and held up triumphantly for Ratchet to see, it seemed the mission had been successful. As the noise level began to drop off and the bots reduced the volume in their voices so they could talk about the past moon in civil tones, Jaraxis curled up and dozed off again. No doubt he'd get the whole story later from one of the mechs when they'd had a chance to rest, themselves.

* * *

_Next chapter... Taking the fight to the enemy._


	17. Chapter 16: Bombing Run

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Apologies for how long it took to write and post this chapter. Aside from it being a difficult piece to pen, my brain also got eaten by Transformers role play somewhere along the way (I admit it, I'm a horrible addict). Hopefully, I can crank out the next chapter in a shorter amount of time...especially with the way this one ends. Heh. Enjoy.

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 16: "Bombing Run"_

Four more suns and moons passed. With each passing solar and lunar cycle, the Autobots became more stoic and focused on the task ahead. Fewer jokes were told and less old stories passed about. While the run outside the city had been something of an exhilarating experience, the bots executing what Windcharger had affectionately called "fighting in reverse" in order to keep from leading a horde of Ch'danth back to Rasha, it wouldn't be much compared to the task ahead.

Wheeljack and Ratchet devoted every spare moment to studying and picking apart the Ch'danth sample, working to understand how it functioned and how it could be safely manipulated. After getting the nanotech down to its most vital individual lines of code, the engineer spent long breems dissecting it to figure on how it had become compatible with the Ch'danth genetic code. Fortunately, some of the information L'Ranna passed along made this task less difficult; knowing a bit about the original programming made it easier to trace the path the code eventually took. The rest of the Autobots continued on their runs into the city with Lithos' help. With direction from Palgren, they managed to locate a few of both his and Lithos' old military and junker allies. Chemicals and parts were purchased off these contacts, carefully assembled into what Ironhide called "Mega Molotov Cocktails." Each one consisted of a palm sized sphere with three interlocking sections that could be twisted into activation and detonated via remote.

It was on the fourth moon that Prowl called a final meeting with both his fellow mechs and their Tarthan allies, including Palgren.

"The plan is basic enough," the tactician began as he stood before the main view screen in the workshop, the map to the Ch'danth mountain covered lair displayed in white lines against a dark blue background. "As you all know, the Ch'danth are least active while the suns are up, probably retreating far underground to sleep until moon rise. We will aim to begin the first phase at suns up, arriving with Jaraxis' hover transport and hiding it, here." He indicated a chosen spot on the map, a shallow ravine not far from the mountain. "From there, we will make use of the samples and carry the bombs into these three entrance tunnels in groups of two. Since we will be unable to access our regular weapons and subspace abilities with our 'disguises' in place, we'll have to carry the explosives in our mouths. And, unfortunately, as we do not have a map of the inside tunnels, we will need to map them as we go, keeping constant and silent communications as to where everyone else is located. It's a vague method, but the best option open to us. Once all explosives are in place, including at least three in the main chambers, we will retreat to the surface and remote detonate the bombs. Clean up, if necessary, will then occur. Anything you'd like to add, Wheeljack?"

"Matter of fact, yes." The engineer got to his feet and moved up alongside Prowl, a small vial in one hand. "Each of us will have one of these - enough nanotech to cover us once it's thawed in what I've calculated to be roughly three breems. The control chips Ratchet and I put together will be installed on the backs of our necks and utilize some of the same force field technology we've already used. That will allow electronic interaction via the field itself without allowing the nanotech to actually contact and consume the one thing keepin' it from running us over. And as organic material contains many of the same base substances, ore and chemicals found in the earth making up Tarth, the nanotech should utilitze that in order to build our disguises. In fact, that's basically how the Ch'danth healing ability works on the whole. The only drawback is that we have to finish the operation and shed the Ch'danth layers before the suns set. Wearing it any longer risks a breakdown in the small field around the control chip, especially since our own energy reserves will be running low by that point."

"Ironhide," Prowl said once Wheeljack had finished, "Anything you'd like to brief us on about the use of the explosives you designed for this?"

"Ain't much to it," the large mech replied without getting up. "We put the things together with the idea that we wouldn't have a normal means of settin' up activation, so all we gotta do is twist the center band ninety degrees. Should be easy enough to do, even with a set of Ch'danth claws. Like you said, they can be detonated with a remote, which we also built, but they'll eventually go off on their own once set...just in case anything happens to the guy holdin' the bomb controls."

"As for the timers, themselves, each one's got a countdown sequence lasting one hundred breems," Brawn added. "A long time, but better nothin' go off while we're still in the tunnels. It is, after all, just a good ol' 'plan B' kinda thing."

"True enough," Prowl agreed. "I'd also like to touch on L'Ranna's involvement in all this before we conclude this briefing. I've given it some serious thought and given our situation and what we've discovered thus far, I think it might be wise to wait until after the bombing run to give her the sample she requested. That is...unless you feel differently, Jaraxis?"

All eyes and optics fell on the young mechanic, who sat on Ratchet's right shoulder. The Tarthan remained quiet for a long moment before replying. He still looked tired as ever, despite the rest he'd gotten, his eyes appearing hollow. Even his body on the whole appeared thinner and weaker. "...a...a part of me is still in doubt. I would wait."

The Autobot strategist nodded. "Then wait we will and leave the two extra prepared vials here. Back to the map, again... Given the location of the hive burrows and mountain, it will take us approximately half a moon to reach it. We will recharge late tonight and allow the cycle to last late into the suns rise. Shortly after moon rise, we'll get our equipment loaded up and take our leave. Any questions or concerns?"

Palgren spoke up. "My daughter would like to be here to see you off. Mira is young, but she understands the importance and seriousness of the mission you all have. Would her presence here be permissible?"

"I would actually like that very much, speaking personally, anyway," Prowl replied. "Any other concerns?"

"Yeah," Lithos responded gruffly. "What're we to do if none of you makes it back? A morbid thought, I know, but bein' in the military taught me that no mission or plan is foolproof."

"Inform the military as to what has happened and what our plan was," Prowl answered. "Even if we fail to come back, the explosives still have their timers. At the very least, we will have caused a serious problem for the Ch'danth and your troops may be able to finish what we started. We're not leaving much room for complete failure; there will be retribution one way or another. Anything else?"

Not a word was said, leaving the workshop with an uncomfortable silence for several nanoklicks after. Finally, Ratchet spoke up in a gruff and grouchy tone.

"Ah, I've had enough of these solemn, serious moments! We ain't goin' out 'til next moon and slagged if I'm gonna sit around and think about worst possible outcomes. I'm cleanin' up and goin' outside for some fresh air and some old Ark stories if anyone wants to join me."

The tension seemed to let up a bit with a murmur of agreement from the rest. Soon all six Autobots were headed outside, their Tarthan friends in tow. And even before everyone found a spot to occupy, Ironhide had launched into a tale about the time Hound got skunked...

xxxxxxx

Wheeljack turned from the carrier as he finished loading up the last of the explosives, gaze falling on Ironhide and Lithos as the pair took a moment to say farewell. The old soldier saluted his mechanical companion, the bot returning the gesture with a stoic expression. Nearby, Palgren stood watching while Prowl spoke softly with Mira, the little female Tarthan sitting on the mech's shoulder with her tail hugging his neck, her head resting against his cheek. Ratchet and Jaraxis weren't much farther off, the mechanic perched on his friend's shoulder, one clawed hand resting on the side of the medic's head. Neither said a word, Jaraxis eventually turning to touch his forehead to the side of Ratchet's head, his ears laying back and his eyes shut. Sighing, Wheeljack moved to join the group, sorry to have to break everything up.

"Prowl? The carrier's set to go."

The tactician nodded and knelt down to hand Mira back to Palgren. "Your father has to return to his work at home, Mira, so stay with N'Chala, Jaraxis and Lithos, alright? They'll look after you until we return."

"When are you coming back?" she asked, Sun Eyes glassy.

"Next suns set," Prowl replied gently. "Just be good for N'Chala, alright? And try to finish that last book we were working on."

"Alright..."

As Ironhide left Lithos, the old soldier walking off with Palgren and his daughter as they headed inside, the red mech looked to Prowl. "I hope to Primus this ain't the last time we see this place. I came out of stasis this mornin' with a bad feelin' in my circuits."

"Hrn," was the other's only response as he looked out across the horizon. "Think you can pull the carrier, Ironhide?"

"Yeah, no problem, chief."

"Transform and let Wheeljack get you hooked up. I'll get Brawn and Windcharger from the workshop. Ratchet, are you ready?"

"Yeah..." The medic knelt down and set Jaraxis on his own two feet again. "Just give the order, Prowl."

As the other Autobots gathered to depart, Jaraxis glanced up at his companion, looking more frail than ever. "Be careful...and hurry back."

Ratchet nodded solemnly. "We will. Get some rest, 'Rax. This'll all be over soon enough."

With the carrier firmly hitched to Ironhide, the other five transformed and pulled out, leaving the scrap yard behind. As Jaraxis watched them leave, one thought weighed heavily on his mind.

_My part in this madness is almost over... I'm drained...and I'm dying..._

xxxxxxx

Pink and orange light ebbed at the horizon's edge as the six vehicles pulled a stop at the edge of the ravine Prowl chose to conceal the hover carrier. Far from any signs of civilization and just within range of the mountain guarding their destination, they worked to get the transport hidden in the shallow, dried up riverbed before assembling for Prowl's last minute instructions. Each of them carried a thawed sample of modified Ch'danth flesh, the scaly bits practically writing and crawling about the thick walled tubes that held them.

"We'll apply the samples and divide into teams from here," the strategist ordered. "Wheeljack, you'll be with Windcharger. Brawn, with me. Ironhide and Ratchet will make up the last group. Each of us should be able to carry four to five of the bombs at one time, using only one at a time for placement and activation. When you run out, return here for more. We'll continue the run until we're either out of time or we're out of explosives. I'll keep the remote detonation device subspaced until the time comes to use it and we're all clear of the tunnels."

"Alright, guys, this stuff is simple enough to use," Wheeljack said, taking over as he held up his vial. "The control chips have been active since Ratchet and I installed them just before moonrise, but we've all kept them running at a minimum to prevent unnecessary energy drain. The samples will have to be applied directly to our necks where it can come into contact with the field generated by the devices. At the same time, we'll all need to be within range of the materials the nanotech will need to build our temporary bodies, so we'll have to lay down in the dirt as soon as the samples are applied. I can't promise this'll be anywhere near pleasant, so just try to grin and bear it best you can."

"And this stuff should just...come off when we need it to?" Brawn asked, still suspicious of the whole idea.

"Our thought processes are generated and carried by electronic pulses which can be sent into the control chip field, so in theory, yeah. It should come off when given the command," the engineer replied.

The tough little minibot grunted. "Very comforting, that. But then I guess all of this is 'in theory' to begin with."

"Alright, we're wasting valuable time," Prowl cut in. "The suns are starting to rise. Everyone separate and move away from the carrier so if there's any thrashing about, nothing will get damaged."

Moving away from one another, the six found separated spots along the riverbed before getting down to business. Ratchet glanced at Wheeljack as the modified Lancia pulled the top from his vial, expression somber. As the engineer applied his, the medic pulled the seal from his own vial and grimaced as he knelt and leaned forward, reaching back to tip the contents onto his exposed neck. Wincing as a cold sensation seized his metallic skin, he waited a few nanoklicks before laying down and rolling onto his back in the dirt. Overhead, the sky was starting to take on a light blue hue, a few dark clouds carrying slowly on the wind. Shuttering his optics, Ratchet tried to concentrate on the image of a Ch'danth, pouring every bit of information he knew about the beasts into his signals to the control chip.

Suddenly, pain gripped him about the back of the head, the dirt shifting beneath his torso. Fingers curling, Ratchet arched his back as the nanotech began to consume the material beneath him, swarming over his head and shoulders. Nearby, he could hear Wheeljack grunting in pain, arms scraping against some rocks as he slid backwards along the ground with a spasm from his legs. Shutting his mouth tightly, Ratchet struggled to keep his concentration as the nanotech crept over his torso and swallowed his arms. Working its way down, the dark silvery substance enveloped his legs, transforming the mech into a trembling mass of churning rust colored ooze. His systems groaned in protest and then began to shut down one by one, forcing him into stasis lock. Ratchet's last thought was that they had failed...he had failed... Death was claiming him a second time...

xxxxxxx

A deafening shriek filled his audio receptors. Writhing in a shallow hole, Ratchet flipped himself onto his chest, eyes wide and staring. A low snort issued from his flaring nostrils as he took in the scene before him. Five Ch'danth stood or lay before him, two of them struggling to gain their feet while the rest watched. One of them leaned in closer, dark blue eyes regarding him with concern. Its body was an unusual hue; almost blood red.

"...yurooo...awrrriiiht Rrrraaatchret?" it managed to growl out, tilting its head to one side.

The medic managed to nod once, realizing it was Ironhide who was standing before him. His own claws digging into the dirt, he forced himself to stand, now supported by four thick, scaly limbs. Each paw ended in clawed toes, the talons black in color. The rest of him shimmered a dull off-white, almost faded platinum in the suns' light as they peeked over the horizon. Glancing at the rest, he noticed they had managed to maintain their most basic of color schemes, even as giant lizards. Prowl was primarily dark grey with a white underbelly and Windcharger a lighter red than Ironhide. A green back and amber underbelly defined Brawn, while Wheeljack was a lighter green fading into white on his underside. All of them had blue eyes.

A quick systems inquiry revealed that the control chip was functioning as intended; he was receiving images through artificial nerves connected to the field and electronic pulses. Ninety percent of his real body was still intact, only a small portion lost during the conversion. Unfortunately, this made him a rather large specimen of a Ch'danth and the same appeared true for all of them except the minibots. Only Windcharger and Brawn seemed average in size.

_We lost roughly two breems during our temporary shut downs_, Prowl's "voice" said over their silent, coded lines of communication. _Let's get back to the carrier and get to work._

With the tactician leading the way, the group approached the hover transport, Ironhide leaping up onto the main deck to access the crates containing the bombs. Using his front claws to undo the latch on the first one, he pushed the lid up with his snout before retrieving five of the circular devices and situating them in his mouth. The rest followed his example before the lot split into groups, climbing out of the ravine and heading for the mountain at an easy, loping stride, their wings tucked in at their sides.

As Prowl and Brawn split off to head around the right side and Windcharger and Wheeljack moved off to the left, Ironhide and Ratchet fell in side by side to head for the nearest hole. Not much farther up the rocky face of the mountain, they could make out another pair of Ch'danth laying in the shadows on a ledge, wings fanned out and eyes half closed. One of them shrieked as the oddly colored pair approached, but neither bothered to get up and investigate the newcomers. Taking that as a good sign, both mechs plunged into the burrow entrance and the darkness beyond.

For several breems, the six worked in pairs to explore the hive and lay their traps. Every so often, a silent communication would span their radio waves, warning of a cave-in down one tunnel or the discovery of a Ch'danth sleeping hole down another, the creatures settled in large groups within cavernous chambers and slumbering in a tangle of limbs and wings. Ratchet and Ironhide took turns setting out bombs, using their talons to twist the center ring on each into place before moving on. Twice they returned to the ravine for more ammunition, returning to the hive via the same entrance each time so as not to overlap ground covered by the others. On their third run to the hive, Prowl sent out a warning that they would need to finish and meet back outside shortly. Putting on some extra speed, the white and red mechs in disguise dove back down the hole and slithered along its length with Ironhide in the lead, determined to lay out the last ten bombs before time ran out.

Taking a side tunnel they had not been down previously, Ironhide led the pair into a narrow run that went on for several dozen body lengths before dropping off into a near forty five degree dirt slide. As the pair reached the bottom and continued on their way around a corner, they found themselves face to face with an old Ch'danth whose scales were flaking off, its eyes dull and teeth broken. Ironhide backed up and hissed out a warning, but the decrepit creature barely acknowledged him as it pushed past and half staggered down another run.

_Let's see where it's goin'_, Ironhide growled over the link between himself and the medic.

Ratchet blanched, the bombs in his mouth clinking against one another. _Probably gone off somewhere to die. A dead end, maybe._

_Might be headin' for the hub in this mess of a maze_, the other responded before laying out one bomb where they stood for good measure. _Remember what L'Ranna said about the hive queen eatin' the old and worn out Ch'danth? If we can get into its chamber and lay a few bombs out, that'll finish this lot for good._

None of the others had yet reported finding the main chamber, so the medic nodded and allowed his companion to lead the way. The pair entered the run the elder Ch'danth used and followed it, moving along it for several dozen body lengths, laying a few more bombs as they went, the sound of the old one ahead of them echoing in their ears. Finally, the run widened considerably and they found themselves entering a massive, dome shaped room, the dirt and stone walls reflecting a bluish, otherworldly glow. Both mechs nearly dropped their munitions when they realized the light source was none other than the semi-luminescent hide of the "hive queen" itself, laying belly down on a bed of bones, scrap and shriveled Ch'danth bodies. More than ten times the size of Ironhide, the "queen" resembled a scaly, shimmering, overstuffed Ch'danth with no hind legs or wings, four blind eyes situated over a pair of slimy, fluid caked jaws. As Ratchet and Ironhide watched in disgust, the old Ch'danth they had trailed approached the queen, whimpering and dragging one failing leg behind it. The queen's head glanced in the direction of the noise before lashing out and catching the lame creature in its mouth, devouring it with a series of sickly, crunching snaps and swallows.

_Remind me never to complain about any chain of command in any military, ever again_, Ironhide rumbled over his link with Ratchet as the two laid low to stay well out of reach. _Let's set the rest of our explosives here and get the slag out._

Separating from his partner as Ironhide moved off, Ratchet circled around the other direction and found choice locations for his remaining bombs. As he set the last one, the ring in the center of the device settling into place with a soft click, the queen heaved nearby, talons tensing against the mound of debris. The medic turned to watch, four eyes widening as a new Ch'danth literally emerged from the huge beast's chest like a pulsing tumor, the mass dividing itself into a body, wings, legs, tail and a head. It spilled out of a shallow opening in its mother's flesh, screeching and flailing until it managed to find its feet, an odd blue glow connecting parent and offspring for a split nanoklick. The queen then nudged it aside so it could rest its head on the mound again, the newborn creature ambling away with its head held high and tail flicking. As Ratchet moved to circle back to the run entrance and meet with Ironhide, the smaller Ch'danth approached him, head cocked to one side. The medic lowered his head and hissed a warning before moving to pass. The newborn grunted and shuffled closer.

At that moment, Ironhide moved up from the other side, eying the small Ch'danth with annoyance. Ratchet was about to ask his companion to help him get past when he noticed an abnormality in the newborn beast; its four eyes were blue.

_Ironhide, look at its eyes._

_So? What about 'em?_

_They're not normal. They're...blue. Something is wrong, here. I don't like it._

The real Ch'danth pressed closer, bumping its head against Ratchet's flank in an...almost affectionate manner? The medic shrank back, lips lifting to reveal his fangs.

_Ah, get outta the way, ya stinkin' piece of slag!_ Ironhide growled as he ran one shoulder into the newborn, forcing it away. _Come on, doc. Let's roll. We ain't got time for this nonsense._

The two mechs hurried off, running back down the way they'd come and heading for the surface. They were nearly top-side when Ratchet realized they were being tailed; the young Ch'danth was some body lengths behind, struggling to keep pace. Worry suddenly shot through Ratchet for reasons he could not fully comprehend. He was about to stop and go back when Prowl's warning reached him.

_The suns are setting! Ratchet, Ironhide, you're the only ones left to rendezvous at the carrier. Hurry! I'll be detonating the devices in less than a breem._

Ironhide broke clear of the hole first and sprinted across the ground towards the riverbed, glancing back once to be sure his partner was still with him. Ratchet emerged four body lengths behind, panic starting to set in. Ahead of him, the elder mech was already shedding his disguise, the false skin flaking off at first before finally peeling away to reveal the metallic red and black body beneath. As Ironhide moved up onto two legs, still in motion, Ratchet began to force the false flesh from his own back with a sharp mental command, wincing as it fell away. He heard Wheeljack shout to him in the distance, received Prowl's final warning that the detonation was starting.

A moment later, the mountain serving as the Ch'danth hive exploded with an audio receptor jarring roar, debris launching skyward before raining down in small dusty chunks. Ratchet gained his own two feet, the last of the skin falling away as he approached the edge of the riverbed and leapt in after Ironhide, the two mechs landing roughly, but well behind cover. All six bots remained in crouching positions to steady themselves, the ground trembled as it split near the remains of the hive, the howls of several thousand dying creatures reaching them on the evening wind. Ratchet grimaced and covered his audio receptors with both hands, unwilling to take in the cacophony as accompanied by Ironhide, Brawn and Windcharger's shouts of early celebration.

Several nanoklicks passed, the Cybertronian made earthquake dying off. As Ironhide elbowed Ratchet to try and get him in on the little celebration that had already gotten underway, a small Ch'danth dropped into the riverbed. It eyed the group of mechs for only a moment before lunging at the medic among them, latching onto Ratchet's chest with all four sets of talons. The mech reacted quickly and out of self defense, hardly thinking before activating the thin energy blade on one arm and impaling his attacker. As the dying creative slid off him, gushing fluids, he caught sight of four blue eyes staring up at his own. The sudden feeling of horror that gripped Ratchet only lasted a split nanoklick before a blue light exploded between them, the Ch'danth squealing in its death throes as it struck the ground and the mech crying out in agony as something tore into his systems. Shuddering, unable to control himself, Ratchet collapsed into a heap, optics wide and staring.

Activity exploded around him, although he was barely able to register it. Two pairs of hands seized the medic and hauled him up onto the carrier, Prowl's voice barking out orders in the background. Nearby, Ratchet could hear Wheeljack trying to reassure him, telling him to hold on. The engineer's hands took hold of the sides of his head briefly, but the medic could not no longer see, his optics darkening. Wheeljack let go, calling to someone else before pulling back completely. Vaguely, Ratchet realized the carrier was starting to move; they were trying to get him back to the city. But he wasn't sure how much longer he could last; the pain seemed to be ripping him apart from the inside, out. His relays were on fire, his spark throbbing in its casing. Something was there... Something had gotten _inside_ of him. He could feel it surging along his neural pathways, invading his systems, picking at his processors.

_Get out... _he thought weakly, limbs twitching and jaw slack._ Please...leave me alone!_

_I can't... I need you to live..._

Ratchet shuddered violently, a whimper escaping him. _What...are you?_

_...Locke._

* * *

_Next chapter... Unfinished business._


	18. Chapter 17: Of Pawns and Gods

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: Major "OMGWTF?" chapter, here. Buckle up, folks. The roughest part of the ride is always the part before the end. :)

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 17: "Of Pawns and Gods"_

"Wheeljack, status report?" 

The Autobot engineer glanced up at an exhausted Prowl as the tactician stepped into the workshop. His headfins glowed a dull yellow as he responded, one hand still resting on Ratchet's forehead and chevron where the trembling medic lay on one of the operating tables. 

"A foreign energy's gotten into him, somehow. It's...it's like a poison. It's taking over his systems. If we don't get it out, the damage--" 

Prowl waved him off with one hand, failing to hide the concern written on his own faceplate. "Don't say it. And don't worry about explaining the specifics, now. Just do everything and anything you can for him. I know you're tired, but we all are, and I've just gotten some disturbing news from Lithos." 

Wheeljack's optics widened. "What now?" 

"It's Jaraxis... He's been missing since suns set." 

"What!" 

"N'Chala allowed him to go out before suns set," the strategist replied wearily. "When Lithos went to check on him later, thinking he had just gone to sit in our usual gathering area, Jaraxis was gone. Everyone combed the yard, searching for him, but he's not here. We'll have to head out into the city to try and find him. In his weakened condition, he wouldn't last long if he found his way into trouble. And with Ratchet down, the only other connection we have to both Jaraxis and L'Ranna, we could be in for a long search." 

Wheeljack lowered his gaze to his old friend, Ratchet's optics flickering and his body unresponsive to any touch. "I hate to admit it, but we can't handle this, Prowl. The run into the hive took it out of us... If we don't pause and recharge for at least a few breems, we'll all collapse before we can do anything about Ratchet or Jaraxis. I know the lost time is risky business in and of itself, but..." 

"Primus." Prowl shuttered his optics briefly. "Alright. I can't deny the logic in that, Wheeljack. I'll get the others inside for a short term recharge. Once we've refueled a bit, you can get back to work and we can begin our search for Jaraxis. Is Ratchet stable enough he can be left as he is?" 

"The only thing I can do is hook him up to a recharger. Until I can find out what's gotten into him, our only option is to try and keep his systems active." 

"You have absolutely no idea? There has to be something..." 

"It's not a virus or an internal malfunction. I've never encountered anything like this. Our scanners are having a hard time pinning it down." 

Prowl rubbed the bridge of his nose and allowed a synthesized sigh to slip out of him. "Get some rest and then do what you can, Wheeljack. We all will." 

The engineer watched as the strategist took his leave before pulling up the connections necessary to patch Ratchet into the nearest recharger. Free hand moving to rest over the medic's chevron again, Wheeljack tried to swallow down his fears. "Hang in there, old buddy. Ya can't go on us, now. We're so close to the end of this mess...so close. We can't go back to Earth or Cybertron without you..." 

xxxxxxx

It was not unlike a floating sensation, his limbs numb as he hung suspended in what seemed like midair. The medic gazed around himself in a daze, only somewhat aware of the fact that he appeared to have fallen in on himself, that he was not fully awake in the real world. The space he occupied had a boundless feeling to it, stretching on and on into infinity, white and blue and empty. 

_You are 'Ratchet', aren't you...?_

The foreign "voice" caused him to glance up, a slowly rotating orb of glowing blue energy hanging not far from him. _ ...yeah. And you...you're...Locke._

_Still able to process information, I see. Good._

_Get out of me! You're the one who caused all of this! You're responsible for everything the Tarthans have suffered!_

_I sense Rundown's touch about you, so I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that you actually believe that._

Ratchet frowned. _Who...?_

The orb flitted a bit closer, rotating faster. _One of my best students. She betrayed us all in the midst of our research, her actions leading to the creation of the Ch'danth. I would think you know her Tarthan name, just as you seem to know mine. The Tarthan race, in their earliest stages of learning development under our kind, were not able to pronounce our real names, so we shortened them or gave them alternatives. Just as my Cybertronian name is...was...'Lock-On', Ranna's was 'Rundown.'_

_She's going by 'L'Ranna' these days, and just how do you expect me to believe you after you invaded my body? How is it you're even still alive to begin with?_

_The Ch'danth may have destroyed my body, but my spark and mind have lived on inside their queen for vorns now, even though I have had no control over its actions due to the evolution of the nanotech. It was the only way to preserve myself. I know...have known...that Rundown is out here, somewhere. We telepaths have a disturbing tendency to survive even the worst ordeals. Your presence in the hive raised my level of awareness, so I used the last newborn Ch'danth to escape the hive and enter your body. I was not sure I would be successful, but Ch'danth offspring are much easier to influence as opposed to a creature as ancient as the queen._

_So what is it you want with me?_ Ratched questioned, growing increasingly upset and anxious. _You said you'd die if you left me, but I...my body can't contain two essences! Not for long. If you don't get out, we'll both end up slagged!_

The orb drew closer still, shifting back and forth a little as though examining the Autobot. _I need you to help me with my unfinished business._

Ratchet pulled back and away as best he was able, uncomfortable with being so close to a disembodied spark. _And that is?_

_Killing Rundown. _

xxxxxxx

Prowl revved his engine unnecessarily as he led Ironhide carrying Lithos, Brawn and Windcharger through the streets of Rasha, frustration eating away at him. He had hardly been out of his brief recharge cycle a breem when Lithos had entered the workshop, saying that N'Chala had just collapsed after receiving a message from L'Ranna. 

The traitor was holding Jaraxis hostage. 

How the Tarthan had gotten from his home to the underground chamber was beyond the strategist, but that much was not important given the situation. Prowl had hoped that everything had ended with the destruction of the Ch'danth hive, but now L'Ranna had shown her true colors for whatever reason, demanding the remaining samples of nanotech in exchange for Jaraxis' life. What she intended to do with them, he had no idea, but he wasn't about to just hand them over, either. The important thing at the moment was merely making it underground and getting more information on what this whole mess was really about. 

When they reached the gates leading into the first series of tunnels, Ironhide practically ripped them clear of their hinges before descending into the darkness, the others at his heels. Prowl took the lead thereafter, determined not to let his warriors rush into the chamber and cause the situation to explode in their faces. By the time they reached the chamber and got the door open, L'Ranna was waiting for them on the other side, Jaraxis' possessed body lounging on the pedestal, Moon Eye open and aglow. 

"You lot are slow in more ways than one," she mocked, casually examining the claws on one of the mechanic's hands. "I expected you here, sooner." 

"You traitorous, slimy, no good--" Ironhide began, but Prowl cut him off quickly. 

"L'Ranna," the strategist interrupted, voice cold, "What is the meaning of this?" 

"Oh, I'm sure you've figured it out by now, Prowl," came the equally frigid response as Jaraxis gained his feet. "When you failed to give me what I wanted before going to deal with the Ch'danth, I figured it was time to push things a bit. Can't have you throwing away all that power, now can I? I had plans for this planet when I arrived, but certain mechs would not have wanted to hear it. You Autobots have always been afraid to take any real initiative, which is why the war persists." 

"Great, another ambitious Decepticon retrorat!" Brawn growled. 

L'Ranna chuckled softly, wickedly. "Hardly. I am so far beyond your ridiculous factions, I'm not sure your puny processors could comprehend any of what I know. My death gave me insights beyond the mortal coil. The Covenant of Primus as a following is weak and waning; its time is at an end. My belief in the Shadow Covenant and Dark Sciences has never once wavered, despite the apparent defeat of my chosen Master by that over clocked power core you call the Matrix. Now... Hand over those samples before I am forced to cut this young one's life short!" 

Prowl struggled to keep the rage out of his voice as he held up one vial; he had not been foolish enough to bring both samples. "How do we know we can trust you, now? You've betrayed us, once, so what will keep you from killing your hostage once we give this up?" 

"You misunderstand... It isn't a choice, it's a COMMAND!" L'Ranna raised both hands, teeth gritted. On both sides of the room, the fallen bodies rattled and flew into the air, crashing into all four Autobots to take them off their feet. Laughter filled the chamber over the cacophony as L'Ranna summoned the vial out of midair as Prowl released it, struck down before he could react properly. "I can tell you lot have never been forced to deal with someone of my caliber. However, it is a lesson learned too late!" 

Tearing the plug from the vial, the Tarthan plunged one arm into it, allowing the nanotech to swarm over the limb. Prowl sat up just in time to see it completely engulf Jaraxis and begin eating away at the pedestal. The entire room trembled, energy crackling through the orb as it connected with the silvery form before it. 

"You Autobots have been most helpful, but you've outlived your usefulness!" L'Ranna cackled as the nanotech begin to shift, taking on a new form. "So prepare to become one with your precious Matrix!" 

"Fire!" Prowl ordered as he brought his rifle to bear. "OPEN FIRE!" 

All four Autobots unleashed a storm of laser fire on their foe and the ceiling overhead. As the blasts further weakened the chamber, causing chunks of stone and metal to rip free and plunge to the floor below, Prowl called a retreat, bringing up the rear and firing as he went. The entire room collapsed in on itself, the halls shuddering before starting to come down, as well. Dodging debris, the group fled back the way they'd come, the sound of tons of rock grinding over itself ringing in their audio receptors. Finally, it seemed they'd gone far enough to avoid the cave in, the trembling petering off. Looking back, they saw the section had completely come down, the entire mass sinking further into the ground to create a massive pit. From where they stood at the edge of their severed corridor, they could easily see the city and sky above the crater. 

"Must've been more tunnels below," Ironhide said quietly, still stunned by the turn of events. "You alright, Lithos?" 

The old soldier sat in his companion's right hand, bruised but alive. "As well as I can be, after that. But what now? Jaraxis...?" 

Prowl shuttered his optics, trying to control his shaking relays. "...we did what we had to. It's my fault for not seeing all of this for what it was in the first pl--" 

Suddenly, the rubble at the bottom of the concave pit began to shift. Optics widening, the four backed further up the tunnel as rocks began to roll aside, a silvery hand the size of a Cybertronian emerging and taking hold of a fistful of debris. As they watched, claws extended from each digit, sinking further in, the entire ground beginning to quake. 

The corner of Prowl's mouth twitched. "...oh slag." 

xxxxxxx

_You possessed the wrong mech if you think I can be used as a tool for killing, just like that!_

_I don't think you're really going to have much of a choice._

Ratchet growled, managing to clench his fists. _What makes you say that? You going to extinguish my spark and take over my body as your own? As it is, you'd be fighting against something as tangible as a ghost!_

_As much as I want to destroy Rundown, I would not do such a thing to you. I am giving you a choice in the matter, but it is a choice that should be an easy one for an Autobot…for a doctor...a life saver…like yourself. And I can sense Rundown's presence through you... You have a link with a young Tarthan named Jaraxis, yes?_

_Yeah, and?_

The orb seemed to brighten a bit, its rate of rotation increasing. _...she has him. Is using him. Your friends have unwittingly given her the power she needs to carry out her ultimate mission._

Ratchet felt his own spark lurch in its casing, although he doubted it was due to Locke's presence. _What do you mean?_

_The nanotechnology... She has no doubt lied to you all about her roots, her beliefs and blamed all her horrendous actions on me in order to get you to do what she wanted. Rundown is a member of the Shadow Covenant, a worshipper of Chaos and a student of the Dark Sciences. We both know what has happened, our access to the astral plane has informed us that the Chaos Bringer has been defeated. If Rundown is allowed to proceed, she will use her newfound power to finish what her deity failed to achieve._

_You...you can't be serious. The very idea is preposterous!_ The medic shook his head, optics wide. _Half of what you're saying doesn't even make sense!_

_It won't take her long to find out I still exist and when she does, she will come looking for me. Everything will be destroyed, Ratchet, everything. Tarth will be consumed and the path to ultimate destruction will be open, once more. Rundown is one of those who held the belief that the mantra of "'Til all are one" could only be achieved by annihilating all that is…. The price of sentience has always been and always will be differences in opinions, beliefs, mannerisms… War is an inevitability no matter the race, no matter the place or time. For a student and follower of Chaos, the only real solution to the unending cycle is to bring about true and final harmony through eternal silence._ The orb dimmed as it fell silent. 

Ratchet said nothing for a long moment, not sure he could believe it all. There was almost too much to take in, to process. Locke's life force moved in closer, hanging just in front of his face. As the medic glanced up at it, he felt the compulsion to reach up with both hands and touch it, but held off. Doing so could have unpredictable results. His instinct was to help, to heal, to save, but at what price? 

_You know what I say to be true, Ratchet. You can feel it. Rundown forced a bond between you and that Tarthan, but you both embraced it because of who you are, and what you know and believe in. But his presence grows weaker by the moment. I know you can feel it._

Ratchet forced down his rising fear as he felt about within himself, searching for that connection. Soon enough, he located the bond and touched it, horrified to feel weakened cries of agony pulsing along it...and they were not his own. Pulling back, Ratchet covered his face with both hands, whimpering. 

_We don't have much time, Locke warned gently. I need your help, Ratchet. Please._

Trying to gain control over himself, the medic met the "gaze" of the spark before him with an expression of sorrow, pain and regret. Hands coming up, he held them alongside the glowing orb. _Take me...but save the others. ...save Jaraxis._

Locke's spark dimmed again, just for a moment. _...as you wish._

Ratchet's hands contacted, the medic instantly hurled into darkness. 

xxxxxxx

Wheeljack nearly dropped the scanner in his hand as Ratchet suddenly sat up on the operating table, optics glowing white. 

"Ratchet! What in the name of the Matrix--" 

"Sorry about this, Autobot." The medic grabbed the engineer by one arm and forced him out of the way and into the nearest wall before climbing off the table. "Sorry for a lot of other things, too, but let's make it a blanket apology and leave it at that." 

Wheeljack shook his head to clear his processors as he got up, turning to see Ratchet heading for the cold containment unit on the nearby bench. "What? What the slag do you think you're doing? Ratchet? Ratchet!" 

The other mech practically tore the door from the unit, tossing it aside without a second thought before drawing out the last sample vial. Hurrying over, Wheeljack attempted to grab his friend from behind, but to his surprise, the other was too quick for him. Turning, Ratchet brought his free hand up and slammed his palm into the engineer's chassis, forcing him back and onto the floor with little more than a soft grunt in effort. He then pulled the top from the vial and pulled open a panel on his other arm, dumping the contents onto his exposed circuitry. 

"There are others here, aren't there?" Ratchet questioned, glancing to the horrified engineer as the nanotech began to swarm over his arm. "Get them out and away. I've got some unfinished business with an old associate." 

Tossing the vial away, Ratchet headed out through the main doors, optics narrowing at the sight of the expansive scrap yard before him. "Perfect." 

xxxxxxx

Prowl and the rest scattered, opening fire on the Devastator sized Ch'danth-like creature as it exploded upwards from the ground, a deafening roar echoing from its open mouth. As they watched, it began to shift, morphing until it had the look of a Tarthan influenced Cybertronian, optics glowing a deep red above its fang filled mouth. Try as they might, they could not seem to do enough damage in enough time; the nanotech continually healing itself by absorbing anything nearby... Vehicles, walls, bits of the street, even fleeing Tarthans. 

"Well, this is a certified disaster if ever I saw one!" Windcharger exclaimed as they regrouped farther down the way. "What are we supposed to do, now?" 

"Duck and hope we don't get caught in the middle?" Brawn replied. 

The other minibot shuttered his optics in a surprised blink. "What the slag is THAT supposed to mean?" 

Brawn pointed, three sets of optics and one pair of Sun Eyes following his gaze. Off in the direction of the city's edge, not far from where the scrap yard was located, another giant was coming their way, almost as large as the one they'd just fled from. Built up like some kind of tangled amalgamation of Cybertronian and Tarthan machinery, it paused as it caught sight of the red-eyed, rampaging nanotech beast as it headed for the central generators and power well. Then the newcomer was charging towards the scene, an angry howl proceeding it. 

Prowl gave the only order he could. "Everyone, TAKE COVER!"

* * *

_Next chapter... Clash of the titans._


	19. Chapter 18: United Against the Enemy

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

Author Note: ...if this chapter seems like it ends rather abruptly, it's for a reason. This was actually meant to be the final chapter (not including an epilogue), but after getting twelve pages in with a few still remaining to write, I realized it would be best to break the whole thing into two chapters. So hang on a bit longer, folks. Almost there. :)

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 18: "United Against the Enemy"_

"RANNA!"

Red optics turned from the power well to see a white and silver mechanoid the size of a building rushing down the street, feet pounding the concrete below it into a fine powder. L'Ranna whirled, tail crashing into the side of a tower, claws extending as the ear like projections on either side of her silver head laid back.

"Locke! How dare you interfere again!" She launched herself at the other nanotech creature, locking hands with it, their optics level. "You always were a stubborn heap of slag! Why don't you just DIE and let me finish what I started!"

Locke's white blue optics narrowed to thin slits, mouth drawn into a hateful sneer as he pushed against his former student. "I have too much respect for life! We never wanted to truly side with either faction; we were scientists! But for what life there is left in me, I'm joining the Autobot cause!"

"Then you'll live AND die with it!" L'Ranna threw all over her weight into her opponent, but cried out in pain as Locke lowered himself and slammed one heavy shoulder into her midsection.

"Fine!" Drawing back, he ran his fist into the side of her face, sending her stumbling backwards and into the side of a building, which crumbled under the impact. "But only so long as you come with me!"

As Locke fell upon his age old enemy, his hands finding her throat, Prowl, Ironhide, Windcharger and Brawn escaped down an alley, barely avoiding a large chunk of building as it came crashing down behind them. Retreating up the next open street they came to, the group moved as quickly as they dared to avoid crushing fleeing Tarthans underfoot before managing to find temporary cover behind a metal structured building. Behind them, the fight raged on, another building collapsing as L'Ranna got a foot under Locke and set him flying.

"I don't know about the rest of you," Brawn growled over the noise of battle and shrieks around them, "But I have never been more confused. We've got L'Ranna who is our enemy, somehow fighting Locke, who we thought was the enemy and came from only the Matrix knows where... How are we supposed to STOP this?"

"That's if can be stopped," Lithos responded from Ironhide's shoulder. "Even if one destroys the other, what then? We'd still have one nanotech freak on our hands!"

At that moment, Prowl's communicator buzzed to life, a bit of static hissing in over the external speaker.

"Prowl, it's Wheeljack! I've got a lock on your location and I'm on my way! Don't move until I get there."

"Someone needs to tell finhead there that we might not have a choice if those two giants fall our way," Windcharger retorted irritably.

A moment later, the modified Lancia spun into sight down the street as he turned the corner at high speed, drifting a bit before racing towards them. The engineer transformed before he finished covering the distance, hurrying up on foot with Mira and N'Chala braced in one arm. Fortunately, Palgren had already gone home by the time everything suddenly went to the Pit.

"Wheeljack, thank Primus you and the rest are alright," Prowl exclaimed. "But...where is Ratchet? Don't tell me he--"

The engineer's expression, or what they could see of it, faltered. "He got into the last sample and it consumed him. He...he's the other creature."

"The other one is callin' itself 'Locke', so how can it be Ratchet? And even if it is, how do we get him back out, again?" Ironhide informed him.

Wheeljack shook his head. "I never pulled the control chip off Ratchet when we got him back. It might be enough to save him, but we've got to do something to stop all this, first! ...and where in the Pit did that other thing come from?"

"We'll worry about all that later," Prowl decided, not wanting to mention the origin of L'Ranna's new form in front of N'Chala. "Right now we need to stop this before it destroys all of Rasha! Lithos, you've still got some contacts in the military and no doubt they'll be here soon to try and shoot down both creatures. It won't work, so they need to concentrate their efforts on evacuating this part of the city. If you can get in touch with command through Ironhide, the two of you plus Windcharger and Brawn can help the troops clear the area."

"An' what're you gonna do, chief? Don't tell us you plan on playin' hero, because I ain't gonna stand for it," Ironhide growled back.

"Wheeljack and I need to get to the generators and power well in order to shut them off," the tactician replied. "L'Ranna was heading for them earlier; she probably wants the energy to increase her own power. Our other problem is that if the power remains on, the barrier around Rasha stays up. It needs to be shut off so Locke can get L'Ranna out of the city. Once they're out, we can reinstate the field and protect what's left of this place."

Brawn arched an optic ridge. "And then?"

Prowl met the minibot's gaze, expression unreadable. "We pray the right side wins. If it doesn't, we're all that's left between L'Ranna and the destruction of this planet."

As another resounding crash echoed up from a few blocks down, dust and smoke swirling into the air, Windcharger sighed. "Some days it just doesn't pay to get off the 'charger."

"Autobots, transform and roll out!" Prowl ordered before converting to his hover vehicle mode, Wheeljack helping Mira into the passenger side of the modified police vehicle before transforming himself and taking N'Chala into his cab.

As Wheeljack and Prowl pulled out, Ironhide and the others transformed and headed the other direction, Lithos in the red warrior's cab. Speeding up over the piles of debris and working to avoid the panicking populace, the three circled around one side of the chaos and spend towards an oncoming platoon of Riders and their escorts. Lithos snatched his companion's interior communicator up, placing a call to military command...

xxxxxxx

Prowl led the way as the pair of hover vehicles went against the flow of citizen retreat and towards the central tower. Mira huddled in his front seat, ears laid back and eyes wide, her small body shivering.

"Easy, Mira. It's going to be alright... I won't let anything happen to you."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Prowl, I...I just want to get away! Take me away from here!"

"I will, but we've got to do something to save the city, first," the Autobot responded, trying to keep his voice calm and tone low despite all the noise around him. "I need you to be a brave girl for me, alright? Just stay with me and we'll be okay. I promise."

The kit nodded after a moment, turning completely from the nearest window and using one hand to grip the side of the seat. Prowl accelerated, fast approaching a large slab of fallen building in the middle of the road. "Hang on, Mira. This might jolt a bit." Turning on his comm, he contacted his partner. "Ready for some air time, Wheeljack?"

"Bring it!" came the response, a hint of excitement in the modified Lancia's voice.

"Hold tight, Grandma," Wheeljack warned in the interior of his own cab. "We're gonna take a shortcut."

"Now wait just a...don't you dare!" N'Chala exclaimed, eyes widening.

"Sorry, just followin' boss bot's lead!"

Prowl gunned his engine and hit the makeshift ramp, speeding up it and launching into the air. Wheeljack followed a split nanoklick later, a loud whoop of exhilaration following his ascent as he roared off the edge. Both Autobots hit their peak height some three full body lengths over the street, sailing over a four hover vehicle pile up that might have otherwise hindered their progress. Up ahead, the courtyard and fencing before the power well entrance came into sight. Twisting through the air, Prowl converted to his robot mode, taking his passenger in one hand before his feet hit the ground. Wheeljack followed the strategist's lead, doing a complete turn through the air before landing, N'Chala in one hand. Both mechs skidded a short ways before coming to a complete stop, their free hands touching street at the end to steady themselves.

"Now that was a good ride!" the engineer exclaimed as he placed the elder Tarthan on his left shoulder. "Never figured you for a stunt driver, Prowl."

"Good ride, my left ear!" N'Chala gasped before rapping her walking stick against the side of Wheeljack's head. "How dare you treat someone of my age like that!"

"Ow, whoa! Knock it off, Grandma! Holy slag, that hurts!"

Prowl managed a hint of a smile as he set Mira on his shoulder. "Alright, alright. Enough fooling around. We've got work to do, here. Doing okay, Mira?"

The kit managed a slight nod, just glad to be back up on her companion's shoulder, one hand resting on the side of his helmet. "Y-yes. I'm fine."

"Let's get inside, then."

xxxxxxx

Ironhide dodged an exploded underground waterline before scooping up a pair of young kits in his arms, running the pair back the way he'd come and away from the dueling giants as Locke attempted to gain an upper hand in his fight against L'Ranna.

"Leakin' lubricant! Those two lunatics are gonna flatten half the city before they're done, at this rate!"

"Another squad of Riders is coming up on the other side to try and force the pair towards the outer areas," Lithos informed him, one hand gripping a headset he'd acquired from another soldier they'd met up with, earlier. "I doubt the kind of shock treatment they generate will do much, but maybe it'll be enough to shift their path of destruction."

Ironhide dropped the two kits off with a rescue vehicle busy gathering survivors before glancing up to see Windcharger hauling aft towards him, a couple of middle aged Tarthans hitching a ride on his back. As he dropped them off, the former bodyguard got an idea.

"Hey, Windcharger, over here!" he called waving the minibot towards him. "Where's Brawn gotten off to?"

"He's still trying to help clear a vehicle pile up, why?"

Both Autobots ducked instinctively as more bits of dust and rubble rained down, Locke hitting the street a block over with L'Ranna on top of him, the pair screeching at one another while locked in combat.

"Got me an idea," Ironhide explained with a bit of a lopsided grin as they retreated, making sure the rescue crafts pulled out ahead of them. "We need to let Locke know he's gotta get L'Ranna to the end of town, but we don't have ainy open lines of communication. So I figure if we can't call, we send a messenger."

Windcharger blinked. "You're not serious?"

"Oh, you bet yer bolts I am! Let's find Brawn an' get you to work, kid. Sooner we get things rollin' in the right direction, the better!"

As the two neared the end of the block, they found Brawn waiting for them, adding a few more bruised and panicked Tarthans to the rescue pull out. "I sure hope we're not expected to get ALL this cleaned up when it's over! Have you guys seen what the government buildings look like?"

"Brawn, need yer help with somethin'," the big red mech responded, ignoring the sarcastic inquiry for the moment.

"Yeah? Now what?"

Ironhide clapped a slightly nervous Windcharger on the back. "Gotta send 'Charger here to see Locke, let him know that he's gotta get L'Ranna to the edge of the barrier. Can't let him drive or run in, though, seein' as how the ballet of destruction over there might get him squashed flat in a nanoklick. Ya follow?"

The yellow and green minibot popped the joints on his fingers, a smirk on his faceplate. "That I do. Let's get ourselves a good spot and take care of business. Hey, don't look so long in the face about it, Windcharger. Just think of it as bein' like that one time we bailed outta Skyfire and onto a couple of 'Con backs in Peru!"

Windcharger shrugged. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one going!"

xxxxxxx

Grunting with the effort, Prowl and Wheeljack pulled the last of the fallen beams away from the power well control center entrance. Their path clear, both mechs ducked inside, the door frame just a little too low for them to enter at full height. Once inside, they found themselves in a high, fairly large room, a half circle in shape with the outer section of the central tower rising in the middle back section, another door set into its side. The main room was covered in control and monitoring panels, a few fallen workers laying here and there on the gray plate metal flooring, casualties of fallen ceiling debris. Prowl executed a quick scan, finding the place devoid of life.

"We're on our own," he warned the others with a frown. "Everyone's either managed to evacuate or just didn't make it out, period."

"Place is pretty big," Wheeljack commented as he glanced around, gaze eventually falling on the central tower. "I'm willin' to bet the interior actually has a few layers to it so there's fewer opportunities for accidents. Let's see if we can find the switches to control the power flow and get 'em shut off."

The two split up, walking around opposite sides and looking over the various consoles. Just as the engineer figured he might have found the right one, the ground rocked beneath their feet, hurling them to the floor. Having just barely caught N'Chala before she hit as well, Wheeljack pulled the elder beneath him in one hand as part of the ceiling fell inwards. A few nanoklicks later, the quaking ceased, light filtering in from a whole in the roofing.

"Wheeljack!" Prowl's voice echoed in the room as he hurried over and began shifting the rubble. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but the console we needed looks like a burnt out toaster oven." Pushing up with his free hand, Wheeljack managed to stand, the rest of the debris rolling off his back. "What now?"

The tactician patched in a communication's link to Ironhide. "Prowl to Ironhide. Get Lithos on the line as we've got a problem. A collapse destroyed the equipment we needed to shut off the power well. We need an alternate method of killing the flow."

The old soldier's voice came back a nanoklick later, breaking through the static. "Figured you might have a problem... L'Ranna just threw a carrier at Locke'n missed. Struck the tower, instead. At least nothing exploded. As for the power flow, that's not something I can help you with, but I think I might know someone who can. Let me patch you through."

Prowl waited and less than half a breem later, another familiar voice came over the link. "Grawl here. Old Lithos tells me you metal jokers are in over your heads, as if that's a surprise. Need an in for the power well central control system?"

"Grawl, where are you? How do you know about the system?" the tactician exclaimed, surprised to hear the Rider's voice addressing him.

"After you lot sent Fen and I back to the barracks, we were found out enough to pull us off active Rider duty. We were put on communications, where we originally began in the military, so we're up in one of the command towers overlooking the city. Lithos is in touch with our old commander in the ground forces, who recommended he contact us."

"I'm surprised you're so willing to help."

Grawl snorted. "Only because this is a crisis situation. Otherwise I'd have refused and my old commander would be arresting Lithos as we speak. Now, enough idle chatter. What do you need done?"

"Is it possible for you to shut off a full section of the barrier from where you are?"

"That's a negative," Grawl responded. "The grid's programmed to only allow openings large enough for military transports. As it is, the tower Fen and I are in probably isn't close enough to the fight to make a difference. We can only open the section we're guarding."

"We'd have to shut off the well anyway, remember?" Wheeljack cut in from the side. "It's what's keeping L'Ranna in the city. If we turn it off, it'll make it easier on the whole for Locke to get her out. May as well forget the shortcuts and cut straight to the chase."

The strategist nodded. "We need instructions, Grawl. And quickly. Where are the main systems located?"

"Pulling up the reference schematics, now.. In the main section of the tower. If you're inside the control room, it should be through the door at the middle back end of the room. I'd say we could try and do an override from here - Fen could probably handle it - but that last blow the tower took seems to have destroyed our connections. We can't do an emergency electronic override."

"We may have to send one of our Tarthan allies to find it," Prowl responded, eying the interior door, which was not only too small for either him or Wheeljack to fit through easily, but half blocked by debris. "Can you tell us where exactly the switch is located once inside?"

"Can do," came the communication operator's response. "Just get someone in there and be quick about it."

Getting to the door, both Autobots began to push back the fallen beams and ceiling bits. Once the way to the door was clear, however, they found it to be jammed. Prying open the control panel in the frame, Wheeljack extended a few tools from his fingertips and managed to force an override by shorting out one of the circuit boards. Prowl grunted as he sank his finger tips into the metal of the door and yanked backwards, forcing the barrier open and getting a shower of sparks off the top frame railing for his efforts. As they looked inside, however, bent down on their hands and knees, they saw that part of the interior had collapsed, as well.

"Well, that's just great," Wheeljack groaned. "So what now?"

Prowl cycled some extra air through his intakes as he glanced from N'Chala to Mira. "Unfortunately, it looks like one of you is going to have to find that switch. Wheeljack and I can't get through the door and even if we could, the room's not big enough for us to maneuver in with all that collapsed material."

Outside, the two battling giants collided with something else, causing the floor to tremble again. Overhead, the lights flickered, the sound of a breaker elsewhere exploding reaching them as more dust rained from above. Mira wrung her hands, shivering.

"I...I'll go."

"No!" N'Chala protested. "No... You're too young. I should be the one to go."

Wheeljack shook his head. "No, not you, N'Chala. You might not be able to climb through and over all that fallen rubble inside. It's...going to have to be Mira."

Prowl met the engineer's gaze before nodding slightly and bending down to where his shoulders nearly touched the floor, allowing the kit to climb off safely. "You're sure, Mira? I don't... I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Grandmother can't go," she responded in a tiny, frightened voice. "And if I don't...the city..."

"Here, put this on." Wheeljack pulled a headset from one of the fallen workers and used one of his tools to make an adjustment to it before handing it to the kit. "It'll let you keep contact with us so we can tell you what to do."

As Mira slid the device on over her head and approached the door, Prowl opened up communications with Grawl, again. "We're sending someone inside. Transfer the schematics."

xxxxxxx

Not long after Lithos closed communications with Fen and Grawl, Ironhide, Windcharger and Brawn reached their structure of choice - a tall metal beam based building with a wide roof - and began to climb it. Hand over hand the three pulled themselves upwards until they reached the edge, getting a spectacular view of Locke and L'Ranna as they wrestled across the ground only a block away. Ironhide shook out the kinks in his hands as he pulled himself up and got to his feet, the two minibots coming up on either side of him.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," the large red mech decided as he watched Locke throw L'Ranna off and down the way. "Ready for launch, Windcharger?"

"I still think this is a bad idea," the minibot grumbled as he transformed to his vehicle mode, Ironhide grasping his right side, Brawn taking the left.

"That's alright," Brawn assured him with a smirk. "Now's not the time for thinkin', anyway. Time for action!"

Lithos was the only one who seemed to be more concerned than Windcharger. "Isn't this dangerous? I thought those creatures were able to absorb just about anything!"

"Locke seems to be avoidin' that if he can. I've been trying to watch him on the way over and he's not abusin' his power the way L'Ranna is," Ironhide responded. "Right then. Ready, Brawn? The big brute's got his back to us, so on three. One..."

They swung Windcharger back and then forward.

"Two..."

Again the minibot was brought back and as he went forward once more...

"THREE!"

Momentum gained, Ironhide and Brawn let their companion fly, sending him sailing up off the rooftop and towards Locke, who was shaking his head to try and clear it, half watching as L'Ranna tried to separate herself from some downed power cables. Transforming in mid air, Windcharger spread his limbs and activated the two gauntlets over his hands and forearms. His magnetic field engaged, he locked onto his target and found himself yanked towards it with a loud grunt. Slamming into Locke's back, he clung there for a moment in relief before he was forced to start climbing, the nanotech beast's yelp of confusion urging him upward.

As Windcharger reached the creature's uneven shoulder, which almost resembled a living lump of scrap in and of itself, he was nearly swatted off by one huge hand as Locke looked his way. Fortunately, the sound of his voice seemed to stop Locke mid-motion.

"Locke! Wait, WAIT! You've got to drive L'Ranna towards the barrier!"

Locke's optics narrowed. "Wind..charger... Why?"

"The others are going to shut the force field down so you can get L'Ranna out of Rasha! They'll put it back up again once--PRIMUS!"

L'Ranna crashed into Locke, having run at him full tilt with metal ears laid back against her head. Digging his feet into the ground with Windcharer's outcry as his only notice, Locke braced himself and took the hit squarely, barely managing to keep himself from flying backwards.

"Get...out of here!" Locke managed to grunt through gritted teeth. "I'll...I'll take care of the rest!"

Windcharger gasped as L'Ranna's blood red optics met his, her face contorting into a hideous snarl. "Don't have to tell me twice!"

Then he was gone, taking the risk of jumping to a nearby building and using his magnetic field to help get him there, safely. L'Ranna hissed in Locke's face as she tried to push him back and down, her fangs bared.

"Think the Autobots can help you now, eh? They can't do anything, the weaklings!"

Locke growled, trembling under the force his foe was exerting over him. "...that was always your problem, Ranna! Underestimating anything you thought was weaker!"

"A past mistake, yes, but not one I'll repeat... Now everything weaker will simply be added to my arsenal!" she roared before forcing her way forward, fangs finding his throat.

Howling in agony, Locke fell backwards with L'Ranna on top of him, their forms beginning to shift, yet again...

xxxxxxx

The world exploded around him for the briefest of moments, colors, forms and sounds flooding in all at once. Then he was falling backwards, hurtling through darkness as though plunged into ice cold water. Optics wide, he struggled to find himself, to scream out, to escape the nothingness, but found he could not.

Then he saw it...another form writhing in the distance, also trapped in the same icy chill. He attempted to pull himself towards it, limbs fighting against the space around him. Slowly, he made his way forward, one hand reaching out, realization hitting him as he did so.

_J...Jaraxis!_

The trapped Tarthan, somehow the same size as himself, reached for him with a strangled cry.

_RATCHET!_

Straining, they reached for one another, desperately trying to close the gap and make contact. Then, just as their fingertips were close enough to touch, the space around them shattered and both were thrown backwards into complete darkness once more.

xxxxxxx

L'Ranna found herself separated from her age old enemy as Locke grabbed her by the head and twisted her neck, ripping her fangs from his "flesh" with a gut wrenching groan of metal and causing both their bodies to solidify again. Getting both feet beneath her, he pushed, hurling her off and away. As she crashed into the ground, sliding a full block and plowing into a building, Locke gained his feet, pulling in an abandoned vehicle nearby to heal his wound before rushing back into the fray, determined to push L'Ranna towards the barrier…

* * *

_Next chapter... Sacrifice._


	20. Chapter 19: The Cost of Victory

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Chapter 19: "The Cost of Victory"_

"Mira, can you hear me?" 

The kit shuddered as she crept on all fours beneath a fallen beam, broken wires draping down and dragging over her. The entire interior room was nothing short of a disaster, dust still falling steadily from above with each new quake that hit the tower, the rumblings echoing and down the lengths of the walls. Patches of light were few and far between, filtering in from the open door and a few holes in the walls and ceiling, forcing Mira to make use of her crimson Moon Eye. Coming up on a pile of broken concrete and twisted metal bracers, she pulled herself up onto the heap. 

"Y..Yeah, Prowl. I think I've reached the center of the room..." 

On the other side of the door, both Autobots crouched in waiting, their comms open to Mira's frequency. N'Chala rested on the engineer's shoulder, listening anxiously to each exchange. 

"Turn to your left," Prowl instructed, internally sorting out the schematics he'd downloaded across his link with Grawl. "You should see a large metal panel with several rows of switches." 

Easing down the pile of debris, the kit nodded to herself, noting the panel in question, although half of it had been thoroughly smashed by part of the ceiling overhead. "I see it, but...it's half destroyed..." 

Prowl bit his lower lip a moment. "Can you still get to it?" 

"Yeah, hang on..." 

Slipping between two more beams that had fallen onto one another, Mira found herself in front of the panel. She held one hand over it a moment, almost afraid to touch it. "I'm in front of it. Now what?" 

"There should be a large switch marked 'well dampener' and another beside it marked 'breaker override'," Prowl responded. "Do you see those?" 

"Yes...the lights over them are still lit..." 

"There should also be a keyboard below the switches. Is it still there?" 

"Yes...but the overhead monitor...it's broken..." 

"You might still be able to use it," Wheeljack cut in, having downloaded the same schematics as Prowl. "Just be careful when you enter the commands we're about to give you." 

Mira nodded, hands poised shakily over the keys. "Al...Alright..." 

"Ready, then?" Wheeljack asked before slowly issuing a set of codes. He listened as the keys were tapped in the background, one at a time. Exchanging a glance with Prowl as he read the last set off, the engineer waited for the final keystroke before issuing the next order. "Alright. Now... Flip the switch marked 'well dampener', then count to ten and flip the other one, the one marked 'breaker override'." 

The two Autobots waited as they heard both switches fall into place, one after the other. Glancing up, they watched the remaining overhead lights, but nothing happened. Cursing, Wheeljack began to re-examine the blueprints in his systems. 

"I...I messed something up, didn't I?" Mira's voice sounded smaller and more frightened than ever as it came over the link. 

"It's probably a broken connection under the panel," Prowl replied, frustrated that he couldn't be alongside the kit to help her. "Wheeljack?" 

The engineer nodded. "Is there a maintenance panel on the side of the console? And can you get it open?" 

Inside the room, Mira peered anxiously at the panel. Part of the door had been smashed inwards and twisted off its hinges by one of the beams that had collapsed, previously. "Yes, but the door...it's broken... I might...I might be able to get inside, though." 

"If you can, look for a circuit board that should be situated at the back of the console," Wheeljack told her, headfins starting to flash yellow with worry. "Should be a mess of wires coming off it, but we need to make sure the two in red and blue insulation are connected." 

Mira knelt down and attempted to force the upper half of her small body through the opening, holding her breath as her feet slid across the dusty floor. She gasped as the whole building shook again, what light there was flickering erratically. Pushing her back against the twisted metal door, the kit attempted to force it further open, only to completely seize up and scream in pain as one of the beams shifted and fell across her lower left leg. 

"Mira? Mira!" Prowl exclaimed, optics going wide. "What happened!" 

"One...of the beams...fell..." 

"Primus," Wheeljack gasped. "Can you still move? Are you trapped?" 

Mira cried out again as she attempted to shift her position and found she could not. "Trapped...but inside the panel... wires are broken..." 

Nearly half a breem of silence followed. Prowl nearly leapt to his feet and tried to force himself through the door, barely managing to restrain himself as Wheeljack laid one hand on his near forearm. Then the kit's voice broke through the static again. 

"Wires...connected...twisted them...together..." 

"She still needs to re-enter the codes," Wheeljack said, glancing at his companion with a worried expression. 

"To the Pit with this!" N'Chala growled, using a curse she'd picked up from Ratchet. "Let me go in after her!" 

Prowl and Wheeljack exchanged nervous glances, not sure if the elder Tarthan would be able to make it through or not. Mira sobbed over the line. 

"Mira, stay still," the strategist ordered. "N'Chala is going to try and come in after you." 

Inside the room, the kit had managed to get herself out from behind the panel, half her garments torn in the effort, a gash in her back now adding to her problems. Twisting her body a bit, she got into a position to push against the console with her other foot, trying to slide her other leg out from under the beam, the end of which had landed on a mess of concrete pieces. 

"No... Don't send her..." 

"Mira," Wheeljack warned, "the codes have to be put in, again. Someone has to do it. We're running out of time!" 

Prowl winced involuntarily as another cry rang out over the line, followed by full on sobbing. There was a low crack in the background, followed by a shriek. A moment later, Mira's shaky voice cut in over the line, broken by agonized sobs. 

"...got free...going to stand..." 

"Mira, don't!" Prowl ordered. "N'Chala will come in and get--" 

But the kit had dissolved into tears. "Don't...don't send her... Just...just tell me what to do..." 

"Mira, you can't--" 

"I HAVE TO!" 

Prowl fell silent, his gaze meeting Wheeljack's for a moment. The engineer shook his head, an indication that he couldn't say either way as to what to do. There was the chance that if N'Chala went in, she could injure herself just trying to get to Mira and then both Tarthans would be trapped. But if they did nothing... 

Over the line, they could hear Mira still struggling to get up. No matter what they did, she was going to try and reach the console again. They couldn't stop that much. Prowl shuttered his optics a moment, his head bowed. As another sob reached him, he finally spoke, forcing himself to use soft, gentle tones. 

"Easy, Mira, easy... Don't try and get up too quickly. Take your time..." 

"Prowl..." The kit managed to get a hold of the panel edge, trying to use upper body strength to right herself, her uninjured leg slipping in the dust on the floor. 

"I'm...I'm afraid for you, Mira, but I know you can do this. You are an incredible young lady, worth more than so many others think," the strategist went on, optics still closed, one hand resting on the side of his own head. "I'm very proud of you..." 

"...hurting...Prowl, it hurts so much..." 

"I know, I know it does... And it hurts me to know you're in so much pain. You've already been through so much...even in trying to take care of me...when I was Kaj..." 

Her claws scraped over the floor as she finally found purchase. Straining with the effort, tears sliding down the sides of her already wet cheeks, she tried pull and push herself up level with the console. Finally managing to pull herself upright, Mira leaned on the console, claws dug into the seams on the upper part of the setup. Gasping into the microphone, she shut her eyes, resting for a moment and allowing a few more sobs to escape her. Her voice was weak, barely audible as she spoke. 

"...standing...again...give me the codes..." 

Wheeljack began to give instructions to Mira, again, glancing over at Prowl as he did so. The strategist sat in silence with his head in one hand, face partially hidden. Optic fluid was dripping between his fingers. 

xxxxxxx

Locke snatched up an unoccupied army transport vehicle and turned, decking L'Ranna with it as hard as he was able. While the craft broke in half from the force of the blow, L'Ranna was sent reeling, tumbling over and slamming into the open grounds between Rasha's edge and the force field. Locke wasted no time, grabbing her by the back of the neck and sliding her over the ground until they were nearly up to the shimmering wall, itself. Behind them, a clear path of destruction marked the road they had taken to get that far. 

But the barrier was still up. Locke watched it a nanoklick or two, worry starting to overtake him. If something had happened to the other Autobots, Rasha would be completely destroyed. Thus far, the former scientist had not been able to find a way to kill off his old student. Thanks to the nanotech, both of them had become almost completely indestructible. And that wasn't even taking into consideration what might happen if L'Ranna managed to access the energy in the power well... 

"Nice to know that feeling lost isn't something you've forgotten how to do in all our time apart," L'Ranna hissed as she gained her feet, talons flexing. "You've probably already figured out the same thing I have; that this whole battle is pointless. Unless one of us willingly lays down and dies, this could continue forever. So what about it, Locke? You're supposed to be the pacifist!" 

"And let you annihilate this entire planet and more, just for your own twisted beliefs? I think not!" 

"They're not so twisted when you've had vorns upon vorns to think it all over! Our own war is proof enough that no sentient being should be allowed to--" 

Suddenly, the barrier overhead and nearby faded out of existence, the low, almost inaudible hum of energy in the air cutting short. At the center of the city, the power well had shut down, the top of the tower sealing itself off. L'Ranna gaped, her attention focused on what Locke guessed were currently her own plans cycling down the drain. Wasting no time, he lunged at her, both of them tumbling to the ground and rolling clear of the barrier mark. 

xxxxxxx

As soon as the force field shut off, Ironhide, Windcharger and Brawn transformed and raced for the central tower with Lithos in tow. Grawl was already on the comm link, contacting all parties involved. 

"They're out! They're out! Turn the field back on!" 

At first, nothing happened. And for a several tense moments, the three Autobots and their Tarthan ally wondered if the field WOULD come back online again. But then the central tower re-opened, allowing the barrier to reinstate itself. One could almost feel the city as a whole breathe a collective sigh of relief. As the bots reached the power well, Wheeljack came hurrying down the main steps with N'Chala on his shoulder. 

"Wheeljack, where's Pr--" Ironhide began as they all transformed, but the engineer cut him off. 

"Windcharger! We need you inside! Mira's trapped in the central control room!" 

Following Wheeljack back in, they found Prowl trying to pull some of the debris through the door to clear a path. Ironhide moved quickly, taking the tactician by the shoulders and getting him clear so Windcharger could get through. Silence fell over the group as the minibot vanished from sight, scrambling over and around the mess inside. The sound of rubble being shifted followed and a moment later, the silver and red bot reappeared, clutching a nearly unconscious Mira in one arm. As he emerged, he handed the kit over to Prowl, who cradled Mira against his chest. Blood covered part of her back, dull red against her shredded clothing and dirtied white fur. Prowl shuddered visibly, optics squinting as though him himself were in pain, one finger running gently along the side of her face. 

"Prowl," Ironhide said softly, snapping his leader out of his shocked state. "She needs a doctor. And we've gotta do something about Locke and L'Ranna." 

Nodding, the tactician looked to his group of weary warriors, forcing his focus to return. "Ironhide, I need you and Lithos to deliver Mira and N'Chala to the Jenn residence. Brawn, Windcharger, meet up with the military and give them whatever assistance they require. Wheeljack, you're with me again. You're the only one who can keep pace with me at the speeds I'll be hitting." 

"Sure," the modified Lancia responded. "But where are we going?" 

Prowl's expression hardened. "To make sure we get Ratchet back!" 

xxxxxxx

Whipping through the streets as fast as they dared, Prowl and Wheeljack made for the nearest barrier exit. 

"Grawl, contact watch tower seven and tell them to clear a path!" the black and white ordered over his communicator. "We're going after Locke and L'Ranna." 

"Will do," came the response. "And Prowl?" 

"Yeah?" 

"...good hunting." 

"Primus willing, it will be!" Prowl replied, before switching frequencies. "Gun it, Wheeljack!" 

The engineer's response was immediate. "Don't have to tell me twice!" 

Kicking up dust in their wake, both vehicles shot out of the main streets to Rasha's outskirts, racing towards an opening in the field as it appeared. Prowl charged through first, followed closely by Wheeljack, the pair turning to trail the giant footprints left behind by Locke and L'Ranna. Throwing caution to the wind, both Autobots floored it, determined to catch up with their quarry. 

"Any idea as to what we're gonna do when we find them?" Wheeljack asked tentatively over the comm. 

"None whatsoever. But something tells me we need to find them and find them fast. At the very least, if Locke loses, we can radio back to the others and tell them to prepare the city for attack because I seriously doubt that L'Ranna will let the barrier stand in her way for long." 

"I hate to say it... But if that happens, our only option might be to detonate the power well." 

Prowl was silent for several nanoklicks before speaking again. "That would wipe Rasha off the face of the map, perhaps even cause a chain reaction that could potentially rip Tarth apart, but... If we don't stop L'Ranna, more than just this planet is at stake. Just cross your fingers and pray we don't have to do that. I admit I'm more confused than ever about why we were spared and brought here, but if I can leave logic behind a moment, I'd like to think that all this hasn't just been chance." 

The other bot managed a grim chuckle. "You're not quite the mech I used to know, Prowl. The officer I knew wouldn't talk like that, but Tarth's war has changed us all. I'll just keep clingin' to that same hope you have and hopefully we'll make it through." 

"You've been handling all this surprisingly well, yourself." 

"Got no choice, but to stay as optimistic as possible. It's the only way I can hold things together." 

"We'll get him back, Wheeljack." 

The engineer felt his relays jolt. "All or nothing. He pulled my aft outta the fire when all this began. I ain't goin' home without him. ...I can't go on functioning without him." 

"One doesn't think of one of you without the other," was all Prowl could think to say before an enormous dust cloud enveloped them, forcing them to slow up. 

"I've got heat signatures on my scanners!" Wheeljack called out as they finally skidded to a stop to wait for the way to clear. "They're just up ahead, probably behind that mountainous rock formation." 

"If memory serves from our scrap hunting excursions, this is an area usually avoided. Maybe even restricted." 

"Probably due to the possibility of volcanic activity." 

"What?" 

Wheeljack sped off again as soon as the dust began to settle. "I've got a serious hot spot on my scanners not far from here. Judging from the temperature, it's probably a lava leak." 

Quick to follow, the strategist checked his own scanners and found similar readings. "Of all the places to carry a fight..." 

xxxxxxx

Locke gritted his teeth as his adversary gripped him by the throat, repeatedly slamming the back of his head into the rocky ground as hard as she was able. The grip he had on her forearms tightened as he attempted to pry her off, but L'Ranna held fast, darting in head first to clamp her jaws to the side of his head. At once, both of them began to lose their shape, the nanotech starting to rearrange itself. 

At the back of his addled mind, Locke realized that L'Ranna was attempting to consume him, but his failure to comply caused their bodies to destabilize as both pulled in opposite directions. And behind that, there was something else. It was faint, but the more energy he put towards trying to probe its source, the closer he came to realizing that his only hope lay in bypassing L'Ranna's body to somehow extinguish her spark. She could not be defeated physically. 

Bringing up his feet, Locke kicked at his ex-student with every bit of strength he had in him. She struggled to get to one side, not keen on being thrown for what would have easily been the tenth time. Just as he was about to try and bite back out of desperation, laser fire erupted from somewhere nearby. Both giants turned to see a pair of Autobots in robot mode attacking for all they were worth, their fire focused on L'Ranna. And while the energy based assaults did little damage, it did well enough in distracting the follower of Chaos. Freeing up one hand, Locke punched her squarely in the face, sending her off to one side in an awkward sprawl. As he gained his feet, both Autobots transformed to vehicle mode and tore off again, seeking cover in the nearby mountains. 

He then turned back to his foe, just in time to get struck down by a swing from L'Ranna's segmented tail. Picking herself up, she staggered towards him, reaching down to seize him by the back of the neck. 

"I grow weary of this! If you won't let me use that heap of a body of yours, then I guess I'll just have to destroy it!" she snarled, dragging him towards the mountains. 

Locke dug his fingers into the hard ground, but wasn't able to stop her from hauling him off completely. Frustrated by his constant defiance, L'Ranna whirled and sank her claws into the underside of his jaw, still pulling at him. Slowly, she managed to get him towards a split in the ground near the foot of the rising wall of rock. Steam wafted up from the deep, wide ravine, an orange glow cast along the jagged edges. Realizing what she was up to, Locke fought harder than ever, writhing on and against the talons that held him fast. His body convulsed, losing shape...and as a voice echoed up from behind all the agony, from his connection with L'Ranna, and he knew what must be done. 

xxxxxxx

He blinked into the nothingness around him, confused by the connection that kept going out as suddenly as it came. The dark space around him felt unstable, as though it would all fall in on itself at any given moment. 

_Ratchet... _

The medic glanced up to see a familiar form floating in front of him, ghostly and pale. His optics widened in both relief in horror. 

_Jaraxis... How..._

The Tarthan offered him a weak smile. _...they keep mingling...but I think this will be the last time..._

_What...what do you mean?_ the other questioned, a horrible feeling of foreboding overtaking him. 

_...I've come to say goodbye...and thank you..._

_You can't mean... No! Jaraxis, you can't! You can't give up like this!_

_...there is nothing left... I'm...I'm sorry, Ratchet..._ Jaraxis met his gaze, eyes glassy. A tiny, sad smile pulled at the corners of his lips. 

_You can't DO this! Jaraxis, please! There has to be a way! THERE HAS TO BE!_ Ratchet exclaimed, panic overtaking him completely. _If there's anything left of my body, take it! Just don't... DON'T QUIT ON ME!_

_Take care of the others..._

_JARAXIS!_

xxxxxxx

Locke could barely see for all the metallic flesh that had lost its solidity and oozed down over his optics, but he had her...he FINALLY had her. L'Ranna choked as he melded with her, willingly, the pair of them teetering precariously on the edge of the ravine, the molten rock below bubbling up with intense heat. 

"What...what do you think you're doing!" she shrieked at him, part of her face already misshapen and lost amongst her other features. "You'll kill us BOTH!" 

Locke leaned in, voice issuing in an uneven growl. "...that would be the plan, Rundown. After all, both of us should have died eons ago!" 

With that, his spark abandoned the body he had possessed, rushing into that of L'Ranna. The nanotech surrounding both telepaths shuddered and malfunctioned, some areas erupting into sparks while others simply disintegrated on the spot completely. Using the last of his strength to gain some final, momentary control over the collapsing heap of metal flesh, Locke made peace with himself before his spark collided with that of L'Ranna. 

The resulting explosion rocked the ground, sending bits of lost nanotech flying through the air before what remained of both shells fell over the edge and plummeted into the lava flow, below. 

xxxxxxx

"RATCHET!" 

Wheeljacks' headfins flashed brilliant orange as he cried out, but he had little time to say more. Prowl snagged him by one arm and hauled him out from behind the rocks they'd sought safe haven behind. Converting to vehicle mode, they tore out and raced towards the ravine, dodging heaps of left over nanotech as it faded into a moldy brown color, the life gone out of it. Down in the lava bed, they could still hear the molten rock hissing loudly as it consumed the last of Locke and L'Ranna. 

As they reached ground zero, both Autobots transformed and began casting about, sensors on high alert. For a few horrible moments, it seemed as though the worst possible scenario had come to pass. But then a weak energy signature came up on both their scanners. Running hard, they hurried towards it to find a familiar, but torn up body laying face up on the ground. Wheeljack fell to his knees, hurrying to get the fallen medic's chassis open. 

"He's losing power," the engineer exclaimed in a frantic tone. "Got to hook him into my power core or he'll--" 

"No." 

"What?" Wheeljack glanced up at Prowl, shock reflected in his optics. 

The strategist knelt down alongside Ratchet, opening his own chest panel. "He'll need you on your feet to stabilize him once we get back to the city. Patch him into my power core and call for help." 

The other nodded, tools extending from his forearm panels as Prowl lay down and forced himself into stasis lock beside Ratchet. Sending a silent, fervent prayer to Primus, Wheeljack got to work. 

xxxxxxx

Every relay, every diode seemed to ache. Dull pains ran the length of his body as he slowly came back online, vision blurry as his optics powered up. Overhead, he could just make out the ceiling of the workshop, the steely gray surface a welcome sight. Carefully and as his sight adjusted itself, he turned his head to see a familiar white, gray and green mech sitting alongside the recharge berth, slumped in a chair and "dozing", headfins flashing fitfully every so often. Ratchet managed a fond smile, knowing that if not for Wheeljack, he probably wouldn't have come around again. It was then he heard voices, their tones purposely kept low so as not to disturb either himself or the sleeping engineer. Ratchet narrowed his optics, listening hard. The voices were coming from somewhere around the other side of the berth, probably near the doors. 

"...gone offline again, looks like." Ironhide's voice, the accent unmistakable. 

"They both need their rest, although Wheeljack thinks Ratchet should be on his feet again within the next sun." Prowl's lighter, easier tone. "...have you had any luck, Ironhide?" 

"Combed the whole area more times than I care to count, both with the military and Brawn and Windcharger's help. I'd give my left optic to have Hound with us right now, but... It's been almost five suns now, Prowl. Just...ain't nothin' out there. Not even any straggling Ch'danth." 

SIlence for a long moment, then... "Carry the search for another sun. We owe it to Ratchet to keep trying for as long as there might still be hope. Without Jaraxis, none of us might be functional, today." 

"I hate to say it, but we're probably chasing ghosts here... What're we gonna do if we can't find the little guy?" 

"Then we do what we've done from the start. Stand by each other no matter what and eventually find our way home. This place will have too many painful memories for us to want to stay..." 

"You didn't lose Mira, though." 

Prowl sighed. "No, I didn't. She's already up and hobbling around again despite her broken leg, thanks to the immediate medical attention you and Palgren were able to find for her, but... Locke and L'Ranna proved it; we don't belong here. If the war is still raging back home, we don't want to risk it coming here as it went to Earth." 

"Yeah...you're right about that." 

"Take a few breems to hit the recharger, Ironhide. I've got another meeting with the military officials and city council coming up. More talk about how we plan on helping Rasha rebuild and how they might be able to help us get home." 

Ironhide grunted in acknowledgement. "Will do. Taking Lithos with you, again?" 

"Yes. I'll look out for him. I promise." 

"Thanks, Prowl." 

"No problem, old friend." 

As the strategist departed, Ironhide collapsing into a nearby recharger and going offline for a bit, Ratchet realized optic fluid was coursing freely down the sides of his face. The internal pains he had been feeling had increased to unbelievable agony, centering around his spark chamber. He found himself desperately probing for that familiar link, the bond that had held him to Jaraxis. But it had vanished, leaving a painful gap in its wake. 

Shuttering his optics, he suppressed a mournful whimper before going back into stasis lock and a dreamless slumber.

* * *

_Next chapter, epilogue... Homeward bound._


	21. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. Jaraxis, the Ch'danth and all other original characters created by C.R. Majors._

* * *

**Second Chances**

_Epilogue_

Ratchet stood beside the base of watch tower seven, optics gazing out across the horizon as the suns began to set, the view no longer somewhat obscured by the golden glow of the barrier. It had been nearly a month of suns and any and all signs of the Ch'danth had completely vanished around Rasha. Traders from the various outposts and surviving, smaller towns had started coming in again, helping to rebuild the city and open up the trade routes. The economy was starting to get back on its feet. Off around another section of Rasha's edge, the medic could make out the towers and construction site where Wheeljack and the others were busy building the shuttle that would take them home. Relations with the military and council had been rough at first, but thanks to Prowl's negotiation abilities, things settled down after only seven or eight suns worth of meetings. Turning his gaze back to the horizon, he watched the setting suns as they colored the sky in deepening hues of blue, purple and orange.

He couldn't remember feeling so empty since waking up as Ryn for the first time. The others, especially Wheeljack, had done what they could to comfort him and keep him company after he came back online the sun following Prowl and Ironhide's conversation in the workshop. But for as much as he appreciated their efforts and fiercely valued the engineer's concern and friendship, no one understood what it was like have carried the kind of internal bond the medic had, only to suddenly lose it without so much as a proper goodbye.

Yet he understood how and why it happened. Ratchet had made the attempt to explain it to the others, but without having been in his position, trapped within Locke's nanotech body, it was difficult for them to understand completely. It had taken Locke's spark to destroy L'Ranna's, their combined energy finishing off just about all the nanotech. As he perished, Locke managed to release Ratchet from their contract, expelling the medic's body before both building-sized beings fell to their deaths in the lava flow. And while Ratchet was not so selfish to wish that he could have died along with them and Jaraxis, the lingering pain was still so very hard to cope with. It was that difficulty that often brought him to watch tower seven, the last place within city limits the giants had stood before taking their battle to the grounds beyond.

The Tarthans had taken the loss with difficulty, as well, particularly N'Chala. Part of the house had been destroyed when Locke first got out and with Jaraxis gone, the elder had gone to stay at the Jenn residence, allowing lessons with Mira and time spent with Lithos to consume her time and distract her from her sorrow. Ratchet had not spoken with her much, blaming himself for what happened no matter how many times Lithos had tried to tell him that N'Chala did not hold him responsible.

As the last light began to fade, the lift at the bottom of the watchtower opened, allowing two Tarthans to step out onto the dusty ground.

"Ratchet," Grawl greeted in a flat tone as he and Fen glanced up at the medic. "I hate to say it, but I think it's time you let this go. You need to move on."

"Yeah, and no hard feelings about all the trouble before, right?" the other former Rider asked, a hesitant smile on his face. "What say you go with us into town and find a good time? We just got off shift."

Ratchet blinked slowly before shaking his head once. "Thanks, but no thanks, guys. I'd only cramp your style, anyway. I'll just see you back around the shuttle site, later."

Grawl frowned. "Alright. Take it easy, bot."

When the pair had gone, Ratchet sighed, turning his gaze back to the horizon. Grawl was correct; he would have to let go sooner or later, but while he remained on Tarth, it would be difficult. The city around him was filled with too many memories, both good and bad.

Suddenly, a strange feeling hit him. Bringing both hands over his chest and torso, optics widening, Ratchet struggled to stay on his feet, body shivering. He cycled more air through his intakes and glanced around as the gap within him began to vanish, hope replacing the emptiness. It was then he saw it, a hint of silver catching the last rays of light as it disappeared around the corner of the tower base. One hand still over his chest, still feeling shaky, Ratchet slowly made his way along the wall to the generator station on the other side. He blinked, not seeing any signs of life.

"Hello?" he questioned, glancing around. "...is anyone here?"

At first no one answered, but then a pair of large, pointed ears came into view around the side of the large, steely generator. As the medic watched, mouth half open in disbelief, a metallic Tarthan slid into view, creeping out hesitantly on all fours, a pair of golden, pupil-less Sun Eyes looking up at him. Ratchet gasped as he fell to one knee, desperately reaching inside himself to take a hold of the questioning bond that was trying to reform itself. The silvery Tarthan edged closer, uncertain, frightened.

"Jaraxis..." Ratchet held one hand out to him, trying to hold back the fluid that threatening to spring to his optics at any moment.

_Ratchet... _

The Tarthan scurried towards him on all fours and leapt into his hand before scampering up the length of his arm. As Jaraxis pushed his head under his companion's jaw, curling up like a cat needing comfort on the medic's shoulder, Ratchet finally allowed the first few tears to fall. Jaraxis' "voice" echoed in his mind, reaching through their bond.

_...not all here...so lost inside..._

_You helped me find myself, once...I'll help you find yourself, now..._

_...thank you..._

Getting to his feet, Ratchet looked from the horizon back to the city. It was time he rejoined the efforts of his other companions. Transforming, he took Jaraxis into his cab and sped towards the shuttle launch site.

xxxxxxx

The time had finally come. Prowl, Ironhide, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Brawn and Windcharger stood in a line before the open door to the shuttle that would hopefully carry them home. Each bot wore a blue scarf, given to them by the Rider commander and identifying them as honored members of the guard. The ship, a fast, silverly vessel christened the Wayfarer, had been built to accommodate more than twice the crew and their necessary supplies. Before the line of mechs, one of the city council members was speaking into a headset microphone, his voice blaring out through speakers scattered throughout the launch site to the huge crowd of gathered civilians and military personnel.

Ratchet felt Jaraxis sidle up a little closer to his helm and a small, fond smile played across his faceplate for just a moment. Seemingly mute and as easily startled as a small kit, it would be a long while before the Tarthan finally regained his entire sense of self, as well as missing memories here and there that would sometimes cause him a great deal of frustration. But Ratchet had vowed to take care of him in the meantime, re-teaching him what had been lost, providing a shoulder for him to hide on and behind. Finding that her only remaining kin had been allowed to survive as a living bit of nanotech had disturbed N'Chala at first, but in the end, maternal instinct won out and one moon she finally sat down with her grandson and held him, weeping. And like the Autobots, she ultimately realized that he belonged with them more than with those in Rasha. The night that was decided had been a difficult one, but from where Ratchet stood, he could just make out N'Chala standing with Lithos and the Jenns in the crowd, a sad smile on her face.

"...good luck and Primus' speed to you all," the councilor finished, his words followed by deafening applause from the crowds as each Autobot lifted a hand in Tarthan salute.

When the noise died down, the guards and military personnel present began to gather up the groups of civilians, moving them off site so the launch preparations could be completed. Lithos, N'Chala, Palgren and his family were permitted to move forward, however, to see their friends one last time.

"You take care of yourself, you old pile of rusty scrap," Lithos teased Ironhide in a stern tone, a smile on his face as he looked up at the kneeling mech. "I won't hear of you getting yourself wrecked, understand?"

"Right, can't have you comin' after me to kick what's left," Ironhide chuckled, reaching down to gently rest one hand against the old soldier's shoulder and side. "Take care of yourself, too, Lithos. And N'Chala, also. She needs you more'n I do. I got Prowl and Ratchet to kick my aft around, after all."

"Same goes for you two trouble makers," Lithos warned Brawn and Windcharger with the same tone. "Take care, both of you."

"Will do, chief," Windcharger replied, grinning. "We do know how to stay out of troubel, don't we, Brawn?"

The other minibot returned the mischievous grin. "'Course we do. Wouldn't have it any other way!"

Lithos saluted and the three bots returned the gesture, Ironhide and the Tarthan doing their best to keep the tears from coming on.

Nearby, Prowl gently took Mira into one hand, bringing her level with his faceplate while her parents looked on, Palgren standing with one arm around Jasha's shoulders. The young kit had long since finished healing from her ordeal in the power well tower. As the strategist brought her close, she leaned against the side of his helm, one hand stroking his cheek.

"Can you be strong for me, Mira?" he asked quietly, smile wavering a bit.

"I'll try." She laid her ears back, voice a little shakey as she spoke. "Thank you for everything, Prowl. I'll miss you so much..."

"I'll miss you, too. And it should be me thanking you for all your help. You and your family gave me a place to call home, and you helped me become a better mech."

"Will you come back someday...to visit?"

"Yeah, I will. I know you'll grow up into a beautiful young lady and I want to see you when you do." Turning his head a little, he carefully kissed her on one cheek.

Mira stifled a sob and kissed Prowl's cheek before he set her down again, returning her to her parents.

Kneeling, Ratchet and Wheeljack watched as N'Chala held her grandson one last time, tears welling up in the elder Tarthan's eyes again. Jaraxis hugged her around the waist as a child might, knowing this might be the last time he would see his grandmother. As they released one another, N'Chala fidgeting with Jaraxis' scarf and smoothing the front of his dark blue bodysuit, she glanced up at the two mechs.

"I know I don't have to ask that you both take care of him," she sighed, managing a weary smile. "Especially you, Ratchet. You have never had anything but his best interests in mind."

"He's part of the family, now," Wheeljack replied. "And ain't no way we'll let anything happen to him. You just take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will now that I don't have a certain robot hauling me around like a sack of rags!" N'Chala huffed in mock indignity, causing the engineer to laugh. "Besides, with Jaraxis leaving, Lithos and I will be staying on with the Jenns for a while. They need someone to continue mentoring Mira now that Prowl is leaving. I won't have any kin left here on Tarth, but I will have those I can call 'family'. And you lot take care, as well. Don't give me those looks. I know the pair of you, almost as troublesome as Jaraxis and Shun when they were kits!"

"'Almost'?" Ratchet echoed with a smile before glancing at the engineer. "Guess we'll have to work on that a bit more, eh, 'Jack?"

"That we will!"

Slowly, the platform cleared, the few remaining Tarthan workers giving Wheeljack the thumbs up. He boarded first with Brawn and Windcharger at his heels, the others hanging back a moment longer to wave as their friends watched from a small observation tower. As the warning beacons began to echo around the site, the three glanced at one another with sad, but somewhat relieved smiles on their faces.

"Well, guys, time to go," Ironhide said as he stood on the ramp, one hand on the boarding door's frame. "Ya ready?"

Prowl nodded as he met the red bot's gaze. "It's been a long haul thus far, and as difficult as it is to leave all this behind...yes. Ratchet? Jaraxis?"

The medic cast his optics skyward, taking in the sight of the twin suns from the ground one last time. On his shoulder, Jaraxis wrapped his tail around the back of his companion's neck.

"Yeah... Let's go home."

Turning, Ratchet followed the others up the ramp and inside, the door pulling shut and locking behind them. Up in the cockpit, Ironhide took up a seat alongside Wheeljack as the rest strapped themselves in, Prowl sitting in the central command seat. Wincharger received the clearance codes and gave the thumbs up. The engines roared to life, the shuttle shuddering as it moved up the guidance tower and broke clear, gaining speed as it went.

Trailing light behind it like a shooting star, the Wayfarer shot into the sky and beyond into space, homeward bound.

**- Fin -**

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* * *

**

* * *

**Acknowledgements**

The author would like to thank the following people for their help and support in this endeavor.

PuraJazzBot, for inspiring and encouraging me to write and post "Second Chances" in the first place. The story might not exist today if not for her.

Uftaki, for tolerating my late night ramblings on various plot elements, and for helping me work out ideas for not only this story's resolution, but also plans for a possible sequel.

MariaShadow, for playing email tag with me, whether it be about this fan fic or others.

Josh, aka "nom de plume13", for offering encouragement and putting up with my teasing about the plot during chats.

Tirya King, Tiamat1972, Draange, SNoble, TwoSpotz, HunterBlues, Shiribot, EKP, Mommimus Prime, Shadow Weaver, Twi Silvermoon, TruebornChaos, Sanjuno Shori Niko, Puffball, Mage, Ravenshield, UltraRodimus and everyone else here at Fan Fiction dot net, The Padded Cell and DevArt for all the feedback and support.

The folks at both TFBlogs and Freedom Underground for keeping me sane while writing this.

Hasbro and Takara as companies for creating those giant robots we all love so much.

The makers of the huge pile of various music tracks I kept on hand for inspiration during this project. (Much love to the original _Transformers: The Movie_ soundtrack, the _Fantastic Four_ Soundtrack, the score from _The Rock_, E.S. Posthumus, Papa Roach, Submersed, Nightwish, countless 80's artists, Econoline Crush, the _Titan A.E._ soundtrack, Don Davis with Juno Reactor, I've, Savage Garden, Live, Brainbug and far too many others for me to name.)

Thank you all, again. Much love.


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